Deep Inside The feelings of searching
by Eruanna
Summary: I'm gonna try reverse phsychology - This story is a dire attempt at a Legolas fic.... Please someone read it, please. And review too (Not askin too much huh?) PG13 for subject matter.


Deep Inside: The feelings of searching  
  
Written By Hannah Carless  
  
PART ONE Chapter 1 – The Darkness of beginning Chapter 2 – Nûmen – West (The start of a journey) Chapter 3 – Light at the end of the tunnel Chapter 4 – The Anduin Ford Chapter 5 – The First Night Chapter 6 – The High Pass of Caradhras Chapter 7 – Rivendell – The House of Elrond Chapter 8 – News of the Far West Chapter 9 – The Vision of past love Chapter 10 – The waiting of news Chapter 11 – Gain and Sacrifice Chapter 12 – The last Alliance Chapter 13 – A light in shadow Chapter 14 – Greeting news with anger Chapter 15 – New faces and new Beginnings Chapter 16 – Returning Home Chapter 17 – Meetings and confrontation Chapter 18 – Gained Trust Chapter 19 – Silent war Chapter 20 – Bridges Un-built Chapter 21 – Preparation Chapter 22 – Proposals Chapter 23 – Insanity  
  
Authors note: Hiya y'all this is my first well, maybe second fanfic depending whether I can get my poem on the site. R&R and no flames please, be kind, I can take rejection it's just well I can't be arsed with those who have a problem. So there. Also I have done the chapters my way because I'm a dumbass like that. My story is just – in site terms going to be one big chapter. Lüithien is not anything to do with Lûthien/Tinûviel from Lord of the Rings. Lüithien is a place behind Mirkwood and the Iron Hills. It is an elvish realm and therefore has a king. I have had to make up a lot of Middle Earth, as I do not know some of the places. Forgive me if I do it wrong and you know the right descriptions. Also I don't like the idea of elves sleeping with their eyes open, so I have made it so they don't in this story.  
  
**Elvish words with e on the end are pronounced as an a – example: Almiè pronounced as Almi-ay get my point.  
  
*If you haven't read Lord of the Rings Lembas is a kind of elven cake, which is good for travelling with.  
  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I do not own anything Lord of the ringish (even though I really would love to) and I have had to convince my self that my dear Leggy poos is not mine. I also do not own: Thranduil, Frodo, Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor, Haldir, Elrohir, Elladan and middle earth. Yes, we all  
know they belong to J.R.R.Tolkien.  
  
However, I do own the following characters which I am very proud of: Almiè, Amandil, Myria, Astaldir, Ecra, Jenirè, Cenirè, Rinè, Enris-well I don't  
own Frodo but you get my point, Herendil, Andreth, Luithiel, Darrahan,  
Niniel, Morieri, Araman, Lenwè, Caranthir, Daeron, Elear and Glensa. I wouldn't normally bother this much but I really do not want anyone to sue  
me because their elvish names are like those, which are in my story.  
  
PART ONE  
  
Chapter 1  
The Darkness of Beginning.  
  
The small cries of a tiny baby could be heard. In a cold, dark, room it lay. Alone, it stayed. People she could barely recognise, due to her misted eyesight surrounded his mother. Cold sweat settled upon her pale skin. The labour had been long and hard and she had not yet seen her child.  
  
"Where is my baby?" The dwindling elf whispered.  
  
Her husband stood. A terror filled his dark eyes, a thought of death filled his mind.  
  
"He's safe." The King muttered.  
  
He stared long at her closing, emerald eyes. The grip that had been holding his hand loosened. Strands of the Queen's golden hair fell over her pale face. Her lips were blue. As he looked into her face, a moment of mass confusion filled his mind. Why had this happened? He then thought of the baby in the next room. Rain pelted the leaded, glass windows. The candles that had once lit the room with a golden, wholesome light went out. Thranduil sunk to his knees. His stomach felt as it had filled with lead. He could have been more true to her, maybe then this would not have happened. He could have told her that he loved her, but he didn't. Yet, while this could have been the reason she died, he would never admit to that. Her first child, Amandil, had been born with no difficulty. Thranduil needed something to blame, and a child that had killed his wife remained in the next room. He did not see that it was only a child after all and that it had not asked to be born. The King ignored the elves scuttling around him. His wife's dead body lay still, on its sheets of white linen. Suddenly he heard the mottled cries of his son. Ecra, His wife, had already named her child – Legolas.  
  
Many years later, Thranduil claimed a new wife. Cenire, was her name, She bore him two children. The first was a maiden named Myria and like her elder brothers inherited her golden hair from her father. Strangely she had emerald eyes, like Legolas. Thranduil had dark eyes, and Cenire had crystal blue. Her second child was yet another boy. Astaldir, he was named. His hair was a deep, rich, mahogany colour and his eyes were like his mothers.  
  
After Ecra's death Thranduil had turned cold and bitter. His actions never involved emotion or love. His children were born out of hatred for his son who he had never forgiven. Affairs were carried out, leaving Cenire in deep and troublesome grief. She died soon after Astalindir was born of a broken heart, but Thranduil was too consumed in hatred to care. The King sought many ways to try and punish Legolas for what he had thought he had done. But his son was strong, like his mother, and coped through the trials and tribulations his father set out for him. Jealousy lashed out at Thranduil as his son grew up and became all the things that he wanted to be. Legolas excelled at archery and the skills of war. He fought for his race, through the years of war and he grew in his mother's grace. Legolas was so like her in many ways. He was emotionally strong, strong willed, kind hearted when in friendship and spirited. He also looked like her in appearance and was fair. Though many of these things were ignored because of his father. Legolas' presence was hardly ever felt in the courts when Thranduils' other children sat with him. His life was that of loneliness with the exception of his sister. A beautiful friendship was born between them and they trusted one another with their lives. Myria had too grown fair and was seen as a light of hope for the people of Mirkwood.  
  
The war of the ring had passed. Legolas gained honour in the fellowship and travelled to Ithillien with Gimli of the dwarves. He had brought elves from Greenwood there and so became one of the fairest realms in Middle Earth. He had brought friendship between the to races and stayed with his new found friend till his death. Legolas then followed his heart and sailed the Anduin and finally the sea. After Gimli had died he journeyed North back to his birthplace, Mirkwood. Myria had waited for countless years for her brother to return. When the joyous day came, a feeling of overwhelming relief settled on the Princess. Istalindir and Aerandir had not fought against the dark armies of Sauron and so they remained at Mirkwood praying for their brother's return. Myria had not remained lonely for the whole time Legolas had been away. For she had met him at Rivendell when she had been called for her help. Myria had treated the Ringbearer – Frodo Baggins and in the process fallen deeply in love with him. Yet, he was a Hobbit and she was an elf. Legolas had noticed this, and he feared for his sister, the pain it would cause her. He tried to warn her off the relationship but she did not understand him and why he was doing it. So, she had to watch her new love travel with her brother to the darkness. She feared his survival. Many parties and festivals followed from the defeat of the shadows of evil. Though Legolas remained in solitude, in reflection of his life. His father still haunted his mind, his dreams and at the time, he thought nothing would ever turn out right for him. How many bitter tears he cried, how many screams of pain, would the hurting stop? Why was he still alive? He had watched those he loved around him fade away and yet he was still here. Legolas made a pact, to himself, that he would search for someone that would love him. He knew that someone was out there, he had eternity to find that person after all.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Nûmen – West  
(The start of a Journey)  
  
In Mirkwood the weather was hot and stuffy. The trees instead of giving shade made a cage of heat around the palace. It was cooler inside, but Legolas chose to stay away from the others and spent most of his time confined in the long boughs of trees. He felt venerable at night where his pain filled childhood haunted him. Constant dreams of terror disturbed his sleep.  
  
Although the shadows of evil had passed, Elves lived on to remember the fear and deceit that had once struck their foes and so at all times kept a close watch on the outside earth. Many travelled to eastern shores where their troubles could be forgotten, a new life, seeking peace and solitude that was never brought to them before. Others stayed true to their homelands, not fearing the past and still recognising the evil that once poisoned the hearts of so many.  
  
Myria had waited endlessly day upon day for Frodo to return. Legolas gave her no pity, though in his heart it ached to see his sister joyful again. The summer was long and hard and the earth was dry. The running water that once flowed was now but a dirty trickle, sticking like glue to the dusty soil. Watching from the stone balconies Legolas could hear the drumming of horse's feet as the people of Mirkwood travelled elsewhere for shelter and care.  
  
As the days rolled slowly by Myria decided that she needed to find a way to see Frodo. She approached her brother in his chamber. The golden sunlight filled the room catching and glittering on the polished silver and shining wood. Legolas sat with his legs crossed and his back arched writing on dark, stained parchment. As Myria closed the carved, oak door he lifted his head. The pallid colourless sky was now swept with outbursts of crimson and amber light, reflecting off the silvery birch tree leaves. The evening was coming as blessing, chasing away the fiery, stifling heat  
  
"Legolas?" Myria asked uncertainly. "Do you think you could take me to Rivendell?"  
  
"What for?" He asked his brow furrowing slightly.  
  
Myria looked into his deep eyes. They looked tired and consumed as if in deep thought.  
  
"I wish to see if Frodo has returned." She said with a slight shake in her voice, deceiving her defiance.  
  
She feared for what her brother would say, for she knew was against the idea of her and the hobbit being together. Yet why should he bother? Frodo was turning into an elf and also had gained the highest honour from all of Middle earth.  
  
"Is that a good idea?" Legolas replied flatly his eyes on the paper he was scrawling on.  
  
"Nice to see you are so concerned." Myria snapped angrily trying desperately to hold her steely gaze at her brother.  
  
"You hold responsible for your own actions Myria." Legolas replied not the smallest note of concern in his voice.  
  
"I need you." The Princess pleaded.  
  
She hated to admit it, but she wouldn't know the course to Rivendell without being guided. Legolas raised his fair head. The dimming light from the windows cast shadows on his face, blackening his eyes and highlighting his cheekbones. Myria noticed how thin he was getting, how pale he was. He sighed deeply before putting the papers down. His eyes trailed to the balcony and to the world outside it. He had travelled so far and so many times before, yet his heart yearned for freedom out of the palace and to feel the Southern winds catch his hair. Legolas' gaze returned to his sister waiting in desperate anticipation.  
  
"Alright." He said. "But we must go soon. Be ready to leave by dawn. I will wake you."  
  
"Diola Lle – thankyou" Myria whispered with a smile. Her cheeks flushed with happiness and she turned on her heel to leave the room.  
  
"Be ready" Legolas told her, "but rest." He added knowing how excited she would be. Myria merely gave him but a wider grin as she almost ran out of his chamber.  
  
As Legolas searched for possessions the sky changed from its creamy pink glow. Darkness veiled the sun but perilous clouds were still visible through the midnight sky. They drifted, motionless, in lumps and wisps of a deep grey. The butter, yellow moon shone in outbursts through an opaque mist, which was surrounding it. A sword blade glinted in the darkness. Legolas had drawn it. It had barely seen the light of day since his fight to defend the ring of power and the Prince decided to take it with him...just in case. Legolas laid back onto his bed and fell silently into an uneasy sleep.  
  
Engulfed in darkness the Prince woke up. As his eyes grew accustomed to the black of the night he lit a candle. The flame burned brightly lighting his face, a flood of warmth washing over him. Fixing a quiver about his back Legolas took his bow. After a small pause of thought, considering, he walked out of the chamber, silently closing the oaken doors. His footsteps were not heard as he ran down the corridors, easing his muscles from the days of sitting around. Almost what seemed an eternity later searching through the labyrinth of corridors, Legolas found his sisters room. Heavily breathing, withdrawing a long breath, he knocked. Myria jumped slightly. She had not slept like her brother had told her to.  
  
"E'Tula – come in." Myria whispered in elvish  
  
"Lle desiel? – Are you ready" Legolas answered as he walked into the room.  
  
Myria stared. Her brother was dressed in a deep green tunic made from velvet. Entwining patterns of ivy ran across his chest and down to his elbows where the fabric finished. The leather strap of the quiver was fixed to his torso held by a clip of Arian (elvish silver). His forearms were again bound with leather engraved in the finest detail of pattern. Leggings of a shimmering silver grey, that of his sleeves concealed his legs and long boots, up to his knees, were held by fine cords of gold also finely embroided. A cloak veiled his broad; masculine shoulders also the leaf green of his other garments. Legolas' slender fingers held the string of his bow tautly.  
  
"Uma – yes." Myria whispered in a daze.  
  
Her brother looked so noble and kingly standing there she almost forgot what she was supposed to be doing. Gathering up the bag she had packed, she stood ready for the journey ahead.  
  
"Sana sina – Take this." Legolas told her handing over a dazzling sheathed blade.  
  
Carefully Myria attached it to her belt. She smiled doubtfully.  
  
"Khila amin. Uuma dela. – Follow me. Don't worry." Legolas told her with his own apprehension.  
  
Leading her out of the room guided by candlelight they moved quickly down the endless corridors. "Shouldn't we tell Amandil and Astalindir." Myria added stopping dead half way through the palace.  
  
Legolas turned his head to face hers. He considered for a split moment and smiled mysteriously, his green eyes twinkling.  
  
"If you wish, not that it would matter. If we go quickly they will not notice us gone." He muttered.  
  
Myria turned and flew back. Legolas watched her retrieving back in the absence of the beautiful gowns she usually wore. He smiled to himself it seemed rather strange. A few minutes later his sister returned.  
  
"Amandil wanted to join us but I was against it. He is probably still protesting to Astalindir." She panted.  
  
Legolas laughed a wry, sardonic smile playing on his lips. "Don't say that you're tired already!" He mocked. Myria frowned and planted a playful punch on his shoulder. Legolas raised an eyebrow slightly and turned his heel to carry on walking.  
  
The palace doors were not guarded at all due to the keen eyed watchers, settled on the topmost branches of strong trees that would carry them. Perilous intruders were usually captured and taken to the Elven prisons but if causing trouble, were shot in an instant, no one even to hear their last cry of pain. Myria helped Legolas push open the wide, carved wooden doors. The tall pillars of sombre coloured stone disappeared in shadows of darkness as the doors were snapped shut with a long creak. All of a sudden trees, instead of the mahogany beams of the palace, sheltered the Elves. They crept together on the dry, hard, floor of dirt barely making a sound. Shadows moved under the wholesome midnight sky. Twinkling lights were above their heads, shining through the palace windows. Legolas felt the wet, dew – covered, grass soak the soles of his boots. The soft breathing and shuffling of horses told him that they were near. Tethered in lines they stood, proud and tall as kings of Men. Slender elvish ropes hung around their broad necks. One particularly tall one tossed his head at the newcomers, his silky, black mane fluttering down to one side. His sleek, glossy, chestnut, coat gleamed in the moonlight and his deep chocolate eyes stared. Legolas beckoned Myria towards him. Slowly she moved to the horse and stroked her new steed. Her brother put his hands about her waist and carefully lifted her up onto the horses back before moving onwards to his. Legolas mounted his beautiful animal. She was a dazzling diamond white and her mane was flowing and was irresistibly shiny and sleek. Her eyes twinkled like coal but were alert and cunning. The Prince whispered to his horse in elvish and she trotted obediently through the dark forest before settling into a small run. Myria's steed followed. Legolas' pallid flaxen hair flowed behind him as he and his steed rode on elegantly. The cool midnight air whipped Myria's face causing her cheeks to redden slightly. Her green eyes shone brightly through the darkness and her rich golden locks loosened allowing a few wavy strands fall down from the tight, emerald, encrusted clip. The thick forest began to thin out slightly as they got to a clearing. Tinges of the brown dirt under their horse's feet began to become visible. The trees were slightly taller, their long narrow trunks reaching up towards the sky.  
  
"Tampa! – Stop!" An elvish voice said in the uncontrollable darkness. Myria froze with fear.  
  
"Ya naa tanya? – Who is that?" A second elf muttered with great suspicion in his voice.  
  
Legolas heard the string of a bow stretch against its wood, growing tighter. Myria swung her head in all directions squinting to try and see anything.  
  
"Lenwè." Legolas spoke. "We are leaving the palace. Do not fret." His horse shifted anxiously grunting through her nose and tossing her head nobly. The guard's bow point dropped considerably to his feet.  
  
"I'm sorry your highness. But after all we cannot be to careful, especially after dark." The Lord uttered with slight laughter in his tone.  
  
Legolas gave a small smile that was not seen and rode on calling to Myria. The atmosphere changed quite suddenly. The prince pulled on the silver rope tied around his steed's neck to slow her. Myria felt her brother's tension as she stopped beside him.  
  
"Mani naa ta? – What is it?" Myria whispered.  
  
"Shhh." Legolas hushed quietly. His eager eyes searching through the shadows and absence of the daylight.  
  
"I think we have entered the realm of the Great Spiders. It is best you keep close and on your guard. It is times like these that the blade about your belt gives great comfort." Legolas whispered.  
  
"Should we dismount?" Myria asked.  
  
"No. The horses will be useful later and will get us to Rivendell far quicker. As long as we keep to the elven path we shall be able to ride swiftly."  
  
He tugged at the ropes forcefully, his carrier extremely reluctant. Over a small stream she jumped, before landing with a clump of hooves back down again. Myria closely followed - and they rode as promised, swiftly and efficiently. After about half an hour later the sound of gushing water filled the two elves' ears like a clear ringing. They came to lush grass and under growth. The ground became sloped. Legolas jumped down elegantly, as were all of his movements. Myria saw his bright hair through the gloom. He peered down the banks and laughed.  
  
"The enchanted stream." He called to his sister.  
  
"What do we do?" She asked deciding to stay high up on her steed.  
  
The horse backed away from the running water his head pulling away and neighed. His deep eyes wide and fearful. He grunted and spat rearing his hind legs. Myria clung tight to the elven ropes. Scared stupid. Her stomach turned. Legolas slowly walked up the green undergrowth to the protesting horse. He reached out an arm and moved his face to his sister's steed.  
  
"Dina – Silence." He said in a silent whisper; that Myria, even with her flawless hearing could make out.  
  
Legolas moved back onto his horse and mounted. She forced her legs uncomfortably backwards, breathing heavily, and bowing her head slightly. She galloped towards the mysterious icy-black water. The horse reared up and jumped. Her silky mane flowing behind her. Legolas shifted his arms to help her cross. Her hooves landed thumping on the hard ground. Myria's vision was gradually getting sharper. She raised her head. The trees arched over creating the illusion of a wide and cavernous tunnel. Legolas' piercing stare was fixed on her. His head was high and his expression – expectant.  
  
A pinprick of dazzling light was fixed at the end of the darkness. She urged her steed to move backward like her brother's had done moments before. The horse set into a roaring gallop, Myria gasped as he jumped, he soared... it ended, all in a clopping of hooves. Myria took in the shock. She had just done it! Myria turned to Legolas and tried to read his expression. He stared at her, her smile faltered slightly. She had never travelled with him before, with the exception of the journey to fight for the fellowship, but they had gone with so many others. Her ivy green eyes were eager to get to Rivendell, to search for her love. Legolas prayed that he would be there. What would it do to Myria if her heart were broken? He searched her anticipating face. He saw inexperienced beauty, passion and youth. Legolas' eyes fell to the floor. It was bewildering and he mused for a long while. Myria expected praise and was sorely disappointed.  
  
"What are you thinking? Did I do it wrong?" She gasped. Legolas gave an empty laugh.  
  
"You were wonderful." He said. A slight smile curving the corners of his mouth. He pulled the silver rope and his steed turned her back, trotting ahead into the wild abyss. Myria copied, confused thoughts filling her head. Her dark Stallion followed her brother confidently and gave her courage in the dark hours of the night.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Light at the end of the tunnel  
  
Thorns and bracken lined the mud walls and moss covered the soft floor. The horses and their riders rode on for what seemed an age, the tiny pinprick of light growing in the distance. Even in the early hours of the morning, no light filtered through the numerous leaves above their heads. It was deathly quiet as if something or someone should fill the silence. As the path grew wider various scuffling and shuffling noises could be distantly heard. Lichen and Ivy strangled the visible trees through the dimness. Countless, thick, piles of trampled leaves lay over the ground and clingy dew speckled cobwebs clung to the long stretched boughs of low Oaks. The night air was cool and refreshing but stuck in the traveller's throats like a winter's frost. Greenish light highlighted the banks. The elven path turned abruptly right and they moved back deep into the forest, with the tall firs giving away the first signs of morning light. Myria forgot how suffocating the woods could be in summer and hated the way the journey seemed so endless. Yet despite this her brother seemed to know exactly where they were.  
  
"How is it you know where we are Legolas?" Myria asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.  
  
"I spent all of my childhood exploring these parts. My navigation comes naturally now. Where as you my dear sister decided to spend all your time in the palace!" The prince replied with a childish grin and smirk spoiling his fair looks.  
  
"I didn't just sit around for all of my days." Myria exclaimed angrily. "I was tutored." She added.  
  
"Oh! That would explain things then." Legolas spoke sarcastically.  
  
"What do mean." Myria snapped back.  
  
"What did you learn then?" Her brother asked with a more serious note.  
  
"Well...History of the ages and things like that." She replied knowing that her sly companion had outwitted her, not the first time.  
  
"Interesting then." Legolas laughed aware of his success.  
  
Cautiously the Prince lifted his fair head. Hundreds of Thousands of ebony black butterflies lined the low growing Oak trees, which they preferred in the fiery months of summer. Myria gasped exclaiming her surprise.  
  
"I didn't know there were butterflies in Mirkwood." She said. Legolas laughed again.  
  
"I thought you studied history." He replied.  
  
"Well..." Myria laughed with him. "I never said I paid attention. The elven scholars are ever so boring."  
  
With another laugh they rode on together. The bright light was growing, like a porthole to the outside world. Myria pulled hard on her horse's silver ropes. He leaped forward into a run, heading towards the end of the tunnel, as if it was only chance of freedom. The undergrowth rushed passed her in a blur of green and brown smudged together. Her steed's feet thumped the ground hard and she held onto his neck with all the strength she could muster. Myria's long leaf-coloured cloaked flowed out behind her like a smooth running stream. She rode her horse elegantly and looked comfortable Legolas thought as she ran on without him. His own horse shifted her feet underneath him as if in extreme jealousy and he felt the coarse of competition run through her. With a laugh he pulled on her rope gently to follow his sister. His steed jolted up with a bound, her agile limbs working as quickly as she could. Freedom came to mind as the morning air whipped the Prince's face. The end of tunnel came quickly into focus as he rode closer to his sister, catching her up and advancing on the rear of her horse. With as last force of energy his horse bound up towards her competitor and neighed loudly as she achieved her goal. Legolas turned his head to face his sister not a sign of triumph on his face, with the exception of one sleek, eyebrow raised. Myria sighed.  
  
"I should've known." She gasped panting from the effort. "You're good at anything like that."  
  
"Oh I know." Legolas replied a smug smile on his lips.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
The Anduin Ford  
  
The forest gate was upon them both. Well, it was hardly a gate. Two gnarled Oaks were arched over the entrance choked with ivy and moss, which was crawling up their barks. The horses trotted together carrying their riders under the trees and out of the perilous woods and into the wide world. Myria gasped as her horse turned and she looked up into the beautiful dawn. The glowing sun was rising in the east, over the black trees, like a dazzling circle of brilliant white encrusted in outbursts of rich gold. Low, fluffy clouds lingered in the new - born sky travelling lazily across Middle Earth. Strokes of pink and pallid green swept across, for far and the dewdrops twinkled over the fresh grass like small crystals catching and reflecting the first morning light. Lone trees scattered over the hills a few yards away. Legolas dismounted from his steed the soft ground like a blessing from the hard soil of the forest. He walked away a little from the horses and his sister before coming back some time later. Myria stared, as her brother became visible over the hilltop. She shielded her eyes from the blinding eastern light as it gradually crept over Mirkwood.  
  
"What is it?" She called.  
  
"The Anduin flows strong over the hill. We shall have to wait till the tide goes down to cross. Then, still it will be deep." Legolas said, his face with a grim expression.  
  
"Isn't there a ford?" Myria asked in wonder.  
  
"Oh yes, we would find it impossible without it. Never at the strength it is flowing would we be able to cross today. In a few hours it will be shallow enough for the horses." He said before settling down on a small mound of grass and easing the pack off of his shoulders.  
  
Myria jumped down from her steed and he stalked off bending his head to search for lush grass. She pulled off the heavy blade that had been weighing her down for most of the journey and lay it on the ground. Legolas was rummaging through a satin bag, the same silver as the rope and their leggings. He pulled out a something closely wrapped in a deep pink, silk, cloth. Myria watched him sitting cross-legged and un-wrapping the parcel. She settled next to him. Legolas pulled out a small knife from his waist with a pearl, engraved handle. In the bundle lay a tiny mahogany box half patterned extravagantly of, on closer observation, with leaves entwined with Celtic patterns. His brow furrowed with concentration as his slender fingers cleverly whittled out the charcoal-drawn design. Myria loosened her golden hair that fell down her back like a shimmering waterfall. She ran a small silver comb through it humming slightly.  
  
"Is there any food Legolas?" Myria asked.  
  
He looked up in surprise and frowned.  
  
"It hasn't even been a day yet. You'll need it later." He said carrying with his work.  
  
"Oh, fine." Myria sighed over dramatically. "Which route are we taking anyhow?" This thought hadn't exactly struck her since they had left, or even before.  
  
"Well. When the Anduin's tide has dropped we shall cross the ford with the aid of our horses. Then we shall pray that the high pass of Caradhras is open. Therefore, Rivendell shall be the other side." He replied informatively.  
  
"Caradhras of the Misty Mountains? But surely even with the evil's passing it is still dangerous. Do goblins still dwell deep inside?" Myria asked with a note of fear in her voice.  
  
"Oh I doubt it. The dwarves probably hunted them out with their mining and killed them all anyway. The pass is the smallest part of the mountains. We should be safe." Legolas said coolly without a worry.  
  
"Please tell me we are not staying with dwarves." Myria moaned. Her brother shot her a glare.  
  
"There is nothing wrong with dwarves. Yes they are quick tempered but they have hearts of gold. Anyhow nay, we are not staying with them." Legolas replied stiffly.  
  
Myria smiled to herself. She knew of the friendship between Gimli of the dwarves and her brother and it had seemed rather strange to her. Years had passed and he was dead now. Myria lay down on the grass and turned over. She watched the wispy clouds flutter across the cornflower blue sky. Her hands plucked at the blades of grass with absent mind.  
  
"I wonder if he still has the Star of Elendil." Legolas muttered to himself.  
  
"Who does?" Myria asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. "What is it anyway?  
  
"Inquisitive." Legolas said shaking his head.  
  
"Who is?" Myria asked desperately.  
  
"Too many questions! You are; inquisitive, I mean." He laughed. "The Lady Galadriel gave Frodo Baggins Elendil, the most beloved star of Lóthlorien during the fellowship." Legolas said, like he was recalling a forgotten memory.  
  
"I expect he treasured it." Myria whispered in awe.  
  
The brightly shining sun was now high in the sky scorching their fair skin. Myria flapped her hand in front of her face. There was no breeze, cooling the air. Legolas stopped his work, wrapping the box back up carefully and stowing it away in the pack. He stood up, tall and stretched his arms and fingers. He set the quiver about his back, full of newly made arrows the feathers sticking up behind his shoulder.  
  
"Myria, the ford should be shallow enough to cross now. Come, bring the horses." Legolas called over his back.  
  
The Princess rummaged for a strip of silk to bind her hair. Before tying it loosely into a sleek bun at the base of her neck. Already strands fell near her face as she gathered up her belongings and called to the horses, which trotted over the hill to her side. Holding their ropes she marched on toward her brother. Legolas reached the edge of the high bank. He waited for Myria to join him. The Prince looked down. The dense, lush grass swept down the bank. It was extremely steep for a couple of yards but then evened out towards the bottom. The Anduin flowed wide, its sheer size intimidated the onlooker, but despite this, the water at the moment was quite low. Numerous pebbles and rocks shone through the clear, pure water, frothing at the edges of the bank. The sun cast of the River reflecting its blinding light. Myria stood beside her brother the two horses standing nobly by her side. Legolas walked over to his steed and mounted her. She tossed her pearly mane and grunted before forcing her legs down the long, sweeping, slope. His sister of course followed her steed a little more reluctant at the sight of the great flowing water. The crunch of the horses' feet against the grinding pebbles of the shore echoed in the air. Legolas pulled the elven rope and his steed slipped her feet tenderly into the icy-cold, gushing water. She waded in the Anduin rising to her knees. A ringing neigh filled the valley as she pulled herself in further. Legolas' boot soles skimmed the water soaking with damp.  
  
"Ài!" Legolas cursed as his horse reared her hind legs, jolting him forward. He looked back to his sister. She gasped as the situation got worse.  
  
"Estelle! Be still!" The Prince shouted to his steed as she turned back toward the nearest shore.  
  
Legolas gripped her rope as she writhed underneath him. Water had risen to his shins, soaking his leggings. Myria gritted her teeth and pulled her horse's silver cords. He backed away slightly before galloping into the flowing River. The water frothed below her feet. The icy-coldness of the Anduin lapped her soles causing a shiver down her spine. Myria's horse ran past her brother and towards the shore. Estelle didn't follow. The effect Myria had desired didn't work. Legolas was left stranded with his hysterical companion. Myria's anxiety rose. Her brother turned his head a frustrated, harassed, expression all over his handsome face. Legolas' green eyes fell to the water below him.  
  
"No!" Myria screamed but it was too late.  
  
The prince grimaced, and sung his left leg over Estelle's back. The Anduin was rapidly rising the icy-cold water swelling up to his knees. Estelle grunted a fearful scream. Legolas gasped before slipping down into the water. His feet touched the riverbed and bubbles raised to the sparkling surface. Myria anticipated his resurface as gave a sigh of relief when his head broke the top layer of water. His flaxen hair was sopping wet. Legolas coughed and gently rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Struggling against the fierce current, he forced his legs forward. The force of the water was crushing; reaching up he grabbed the elven rope and pulled the struggling Estelle to the far shore. Myria wiped a tear from her shocked eyes – the result of fear. She watched Legolas wade through the small torrents of running water about his shins. His soaking hair lay down his back and droplets of water ran down his fair face.  
  
"Oh! Legolas!" Myria called as she ran towards her brother her chest throbbing with raw emotion.  
  
Myria flung her arms around when he reached the embankment. When they parted she put her dry hands on his sopping face. Legolas smiled at her and they embraced once more before walking hand in hand together away from the Anduin, the relief-stricken horses' by their sides.  
  
Chapter 5  
  
The First Night  
  
In the ever so distant horizon The Misty Mountains stood proud and tall. The snow-peaked caps blended in with the sky. The two elves settled back down on the grass. There was less of it now and Estelle who had used all of her energy in the floods of the Anduin quickly consumed the few yellow- green blades that grew. Looking back into the dale the water had risen further and covered the close rocks, swimming over the lush green. Legolas had lain his over-garments on the quickly heating rocks nearby. His Leggings and shirt were still soaked but that couldn't be helped. Myria took her boots off that had been constricting her small feet the entire journey. Her brother allowed her to eat now after the shock of the Anduin. The Lembas* he had packed came as a blessing and she longed for more as she consumed what she was allowed. Her stomach protested greatly being treated this way, as she never, ever missed a meal. Legolas crafted arrows in the afternoon sun - withering the sparse vegetation around him.  
  
"Aren't you hungry?" Myria asked when she realised that Legolas hadn't eaten in two days or maybe more.  
  
"No." He replied. "I just don't eat often."  
  
"Well you should." Myria said bossily but meaning well.  
  
"Yes Myria." Legolas laughed as she gave him a stubborn look.  
  
"When are we going then?" His sister asked nudging her head in the direction of the mountains. "More questions!" He chuckled with a smile. "Well, its no use trying today. I'm still recovering and plus we have to be alert and careful. Clear heads – sleep will help that. The Caradhras is perilous however way you look at it. The dwarves may still be there instead of goblins but we shall have to pray for the weather's blessing." Legolas muttered as he wound string around the arrow-point.  
  
"Alright." Myria sighed as she lay back against a huge stone-coloured rock.  
  
It was a pity the Caradhras would hide the evening sunset Legolas thought as he set down the bundle of arrows he had previously made onto the ground. He looked over to his sister who had her eyes closed her raven black eyelashes, dark against her snowy skin. Myria was so very beautiful – like her mother. Legolas had never known or seen his mother and he abode it with a great pain. He had been told he looked like Ecra. (His mother.) Cenirè, Myria's mother had been beautiful, yet so different. Legolas was six hundred years old when Myria had been born. He had never had seen a form so blissfully- wonderful, something so pure and true. He almost forgot his deep, agonising pain when Cenirè had allowed him to hold his sister in his arms. Legolas always had been able to calm her when others couldn't.  
  
The horizon - or what he could see, over the bleak mountains had been swept with a golden sheen. The sun was setting in the west. Blackness overcame the top of the dale like a midnight Angel, sweeping over the pallid sky, setting it with a flood of rich, blue. Tiny distant Stars twinkled like fairy lights. A constellation of endless diamonds sparkling through the night. The Prince sat rigid, against the rocks not even considering rest, wildly staring into the black abyss. He often thought of stories' of old ages. Of elven souls flying to the west where they remained for eternity looking over their loved ones like guardian angels. He thought of his mother this way. The sea was in the west; this had inspired his trip there. He had sailed for miles on end; the water carrying him to what he hoped was his end. This did not come however and he decided to return to his anticipating sister. It was not only him she was waiting for though. He, obviously, was jealous of this and didn't want to loose Myria, but after all, wasn't it him who desired love of all things. Why couldn't his very own sibling experience it and it would be good to see her eternally happy. Legolas turned over, the cold air chilling his velvety skin.  
  
Myria awoke in the early hours of the morning and automatically looked over to see Legolas' eyes closed in restless sleep. The sky was still dark, yet slightly paler than the usual midnight sky. Her brother did not look slightly peaceful whatsoever; his arms crossed a shield against the bitter cold. He must have been freezing wearing only a white, ruffled, linen shirt passing down to his thighs and the tainted leggings still half of them a hue darker from the water. His blonde hair caught in the breeze, whipping it away from his face. Legolas' narrow feet were bare due to his drying boots on the rock above him along with his tunic and cloak. Myria dropped down beside him and leant into him nuzzling into his chest trying to put some warmth into his icy-cold body. He stirred a little only to put a comforting arm around his sister.  
  
The morning sun came as blessing to the elves hearts warming their spirits and hope. They awoke late and Legolas dressed quickly.  
  
"If we go, now we have rested, the weather may be kind to us and we will pass much more easily." He said walking over to Myria.  
  
He bent down and searched through the satin bag near her feet.  
  
"Put this on." He muttered, handing her a finely woven cloak and tunic.  
  
Myria looked at him and he nodded. She slowly started to undo the buttons of her velvet garment that she was currently wearing.  
  
"No, No." Legolas spoke shaking is fair head. "Caradhras is freezing. At least it will be for you. Put it over the things you are already wearing. You'll thank me later on for it."  
  
Myria did as she was told, doing back up her buttons and slipping the new things over the top. It was stifling under the summer heat.  
  
"We shall have to leave the horses behind." Myria exclaimed not doubting that her brother had probably already thought of that.  
  
"Yes, they won't be much use up there." Legolas said looking skywards towards the end of his sentence.  
  
Myria laughed but it was not with the whole of her heart. Legolas noticed her doubt in the short laugh and turned to face her.  
  
"Don't worry. They are clever. Estelle knows the way home." He said. "Even if she does not like the route." Legolas added remembering her fear at the Ford.  
  
Myria gave her brother an encouraging smile as they gathered their belongings, strapping them to their backs. Walking over to the horses Legolas placed his face near Estelle's head.  
  
"Rìma –Run." He whispered to her, and obediently she bound away with Myria's steed, and in a clash of hooves against hard ground they were both gone.  
  
Myria and Legolas set back on course and walked into the distance together becoming ever closer to the wondrous Misty Mountains.  
  
Chapter 6  
The High pass of Caradhras  
  
The black coarse stone ran for miles above their heads as they looked up. Its snow-capped peak was just visible in front of the rolling clouds. Pebbles, small boulders and rocks were about their feet, like that by the Anduin. Running water could be heard and the air seemed less dense even at the foot of the mountain. Legolas lead his sister on up a narrow, steep pathway made of levelled out stone. The horses simply wouldn't have fitted up there. The vegetation was sparse save a few tiny green shrubs with small pink flowers. The walkway abruptly turned around a corner and a view made Myria gasp. A crystal blue waterfall flowed over jutting grey rocks a while away. It fell a good few metres down, a sheer vertical drop, the white foam just visible like tiny pinpricks of sand. A lone tree grew above the falls it's bark twisted and gnarled, the few leaves it bore were a pale, mint green. All around them was grey, grey rock for all that could fill their eyes. An eerie mist surrounded the two elves, steaming from the gushing water.  
  
"Legolas," Myria gasped "Why is it exactly called the high pass of Caradhras?"  
  
Her brother then merely took her trembling hand and led her on across the side of the mountain. She almost screamed when a few loose stones fell from under her feet. He pulled Myria on past the waterfall turning them around a right corner again.  
  
"This is the High Pass of Caradhras." Legolas muttered, his voice catching in his throat.  
  
Myria's eyes widened. It was certainly an eye-opener at any rate. The pass was a like a long straight bridge of stone pointing west. Its walkway was smooth like the path had been but below it, endless darkness, a traitorous abyss of space.  
  
"I had no idea it was so..." The Prince muttered the end of his sentence already finished by the sheer size of the pass.  
  
Legolas grimaced one more and crept on towards the beginning of the bridge. His now booted feet shuffled onto the stone, his balance testing him as he wobbled slightly. It was so narrow. With his arms splayed out either side Legolas walked ever onwards, his keen eyes on his feet and the small area of stone in front of him. Myria watched his skill in awe as he moved quickly on. She could never do this. The enveloping mist clouded Legolas' eyesight. The end of the towering bridge came into view vaguely. When he had crossed he raised a long arm, the signal for Myria to cross. She followed her brother, her elegance helping her balance carefully. After of what seemed an eternity of slowly racing her feet over the small area of stone she collapsed into the Prince's arms at the other end the mist blurring her apt vision.  
  
"Let's go and get this over with." Legolas muttered taking her hand tenderly and walking on through the clouds of mist.  
  
Things groggily came back into focus, just a little sharper. The path turned steadily from stone to dirt and soil and as the two elves marched on the walkway sloped downward coming into contact with ground. Dirt and soil grew into lush green grass like a blessing from the heavens and the air was somewhat clearer. They ran a little way, a few straggling trees growing in clogged marshland. Streams ran from the mountains and supplied the grass with moisture. Birds circled the air suspiciously.  
  
"Ah." Myria sighed. "This is better." Almost sitting down before Legolas catching her arm and bringing her up again.  
  
"Don't get too much at home. The grass runs into rock again then another path follows into Rivendell. It would be best we carry on. We will be there by nightfall" He spoke.  
  
Myria's face brightened even more so, her eyes shining bright. She strode onwards.  
  
"Wait! A little help?" Legolas called to her. She turned abruptly.  
  
Legolas stood two horses by his sides. His eyebrows were raised.  
  
"How?" Myria began but finished as her brother mounted another pearly white horse, but this time, a stallion.  
  
Myria jumped onto a female steed her grey coat sleek and shiny. The horses trotted on immediately toward the stone path that awaited the elves' use.  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Rivendell – The House of Elrond.  
  
As her brother had told her, Myria noticed the slushy grass and marshland disappear. The ground abruptly stopped, the grass edging the fall neatly. Walls of dark stone came in on them from their right and a dirt path reformed. It lined the side of the mountain, curving left, down, into more bridges. The twinkling lights shone through the rapidly darkening sky from the houses below. The elves' had reached Rivendell safely. Water flowed delicately from supporting rocks. Such beauty in a place, much unlike the sombre palace of Mirkwood. Yes, Mirkwood was strong, noble and maybe a little too overpowering. But Rivendell was something different, so elaborate and peaceful. Legolas and his sister urged their steeds' onward down the mountain path.  
  
Beautiful singing came into the riders' ears as they rode onward. Joyful laughter and merry voices could also be heard as the horses' feet touched the wooden bridges. Legolas pulled on his steed's reins making him rear up into a striding gallop. Myria followed, excited as ever, her stomach aching with nerves. The elves' horses rode through a tall stone archway; frail flowers entwined up its engraved sides. It led into a courtyard with but a few seated residents, laughing, reading and crafting happily. Both the riders dismounted at once, a small number of onlookers raising their heads in curiosity. Legolas looked up. The Lord Elrond stood high peering down on them both. A faint smile played on his thin lips, his misty – grey eyes glittering mysteriously. Myria blushed slightly as he gazed down upon her. In a minute or so the Lord walked down to meet the guests his long robes sweeping the stone floor.  
  
"A! Yallume, Legolas, Myria en Mirkwood, cormamin lindua ele lle." He spoke in a powerful voice. "Quel undome – Good evening." The Prince replied back in greeting.  
  
"Tula – Come." Elrond beckoned to the travellers' and he led them up the spiralling staircases to the balconies that over-looked the courtyards.  
  
"An lema? – Long journey?" The Lord asked Myria kindly.  
  
Carrying on the elvish Elrond had started Myria merely uttered:  
  
"Uma – yes." Nodding her head meekly "Ten' Legolas, n'uma. – For Legolas, no." She added remembering how little she had journeyed before.  
  
"Creoso a'bramin, Esta sinome. – Welcome to my dwelling, Rest here" Elrond said to Myria alone waving his hand slightly to indicate his rooms.  
  
Two maids flanked Myria's sides to take her to a comfortable chamber. Myria, however, looked back confused at her brother. He urged her on though and she was hoping he wouldn't but did as she was told anyway.  
  
"Khila amin – Follow me." The Lord spoke sweeping silently into a lofty chamber the Prince following him nervously, but not showing it in appearance.  
  
Chapter 8  
  
News of the Far West  
  
The room was long and wide. It was lined with a narrow balcony stretching slightly over the vast courtyards below. Vines and flowers entwined through the light-coloured stone with a sandy hue. Carefully Elrond closed the great doors of oak, of which were similar to Mirkwood. Dusty volumes were arrayed all over the smooth walls in bookcases of mahogany, a reddish tinge glowing through the wood. A golden light filled the room due to the numerous long, white, candles lit in silver candelabras. The Lord drew a chair and indicated Legolas to sit. The Prince eased his legs downward and slipped onto the chair, bliss.  
  
"I am afraid my Sindarin is a little rusty, therefore I think I would be more comfortable using the common tongue if you don't mind." Elrond said quickly impatiently pacing the floor.  
  
"I have to talk to you about a slight problem, Legolas. I need your help as so I need so many others." He continued.  
  
"I seem to be popular lately." Legolas laughed.  
  
"Yes, it was noble of you to bring your sister here, very kind. But I am afraid this is not a joke." Elrond spoke his brow furrowed seriously.  
  
The shine in Legolas' eyes went out. His face shifted in fearful realisation.  
  
"Who this time?" The Prince muttered.  
  
"Drows, dark elves, from the West Coast are rebelling. They have forged war against us claiming our realms, palaces and worst of all; people. Dwarves are joining forces from the Blue Mountains with the Harlindon drows. The elves that lived in the woods there are all mostly slain. They are destined to march onto Rivendell. We cannot hold them for long when they have destroyed what they can they will move onto Mirkwood." Elrond explained.  
  
Legolas' eyes scanned the floor, a million, terrible, thoughts rushing through his mind. His gaze jumped up to the Lord.  
  
"What must we do and how much time do we have." He asked grimly.  
  
"Thankfully," Elrond went on, "a while yet. It will take months for their army to find resources and move through Middle Earth. Hopefully they will avoid the Hobbits, but who can tell after all."  
  
Legolas sighed deeply and the tension slipped away from him.  
  
"Who will join us." He asked again.  
  
"Well, too many wars these past years have made men reluctant to join forces again. A few remain true to us, yet not enough. All the elves we can gather we walk with us if they choose to or not. I need you to train as many as you can. Servants! Anyone that will go." Elrond said with an empty laugh towards the end.  
  
Legolas' brow furrowed slightly in confusion.  
  
"Even women?" He asked, afraid of the answer to come.  
  
"No." His reply came, a flood of relief washed over him. "We cannot spare them. The race must continue after the fighting is over. No doubt, strong fighters like you, who have been true to Middle earth's service all their life will survive. Others will not be so lucky. The amount of baby girls has decreased dramatically through this age and we cannot afford for elves to wipe out into myth."  
  
Elrond's face looked elder than when Legolas had last seen him deep lines represented the pain and worry he had lived through in his old age.  
  
"Go now, rest, and tarry not for things will be clearer in the morning." Elrond said to the Prince who stood and left the chamber.  
  
Chapter 9  
  
The Vision of Past Love  
  
Servants escorted him to his room. Wholesome darkness filled the labyrinth of corridors through the Royal dwelling. When he eventually reached his destination, he wanted to see his sister but decided against it, thinking she was probably asleep. Legolas stood in his chamber and looked around for something to do. Finding nothing, he lay down on the silk-covered bed, the tall pillars made from carefully crafted sandalwood. A great stone angel spread her wings above his headrest, fashioned as so many of the beds in Rivendell. The Prince looked up into her fair face. Her delicate strands of wavy hair framed her calm and wise face. It gave him a strange comfort. She looked as nothing in this corrupt world could deter her. The angel's eyes were closed in deep thoughts of bliss, or so it looked. Perfection, utter perfection filled Legolas' mind. How he wished for that. A strong breeze whistled through the arches in the sandy stone. The satin curtains tossed and turned elegantly. As he mused deeply, Legolas slowly fell into a light sleep. Dreams flew unconsciously over his troubled mind. A flash of a distant realm or land filled his head. He knew of something wonderful that was going to happen. Wonderful, that would overcome bitter evil. A blinding light ached his closed eyes. A gentle figure walked towards him, a woman. This dazzling light, like an angel from heaven surrounded her. Her crystal dress shimmered. Such beauty was held in her grace that Legolas could not perceive in one glance. He scanned her face and he froze with fear. Her knowing, eyes were a deep, consuming, green. Her radiant skin glowed, pale as the very midnight moon. Her silky, soft hair was a deep, yet pallid gold like his very own; it fell in shimmering waves far down her back. She observed the Prince with dignity and pride. As if in thought, her strong gaze faltered slightly, falling to the floor. She raised her slender hand in peace and love. A band of gold was on her forth finger. She was wedded. Somehow, it seemed absurd, but Legolas felt a queer bonding, like an energetic force holding them. He felt, as he knew her, as if he recognised her. Her penetrable gaze fixed back on him; her dark pupils held a royal depth. The maiden's pink lips curved into a rouge smile. She walked towards him. Breath caught in his throat. Gracefully she bent over him; still smiling she tenderly kissed his forehead before walking away back into the darkness.  
  
Legolas' eyes snapped open. He let out a shuddering gasp of uncontrollable fear. Pearly tears streamed down his cheeks. Clutching his chest sat blot upright. Through the ebony nightfall the dazzle of white still flashed across his confused mind. The memory of the vision was slipping through his fingers like the sands of time. Her face remained in his head however, her beauty, her grace, of his mother's angel.  
  
The first beams of morning light crept into Legolas' chamber. His head buzzed with a nameless anxiety. His mind ached as he desperately tried to hold on to the image of his mother. Sleep had not overcome him, as it would have normally.  
  
The Prince felt utterly lost, in a world that he wanted to end. A world of pain and endless sufferings brought on with what he could only guess as fate. Would any good come out of the life that he was leading? The war to come was almost forgotten, news of the future that could wait. Suddenly he remembered that he had lain there fully clothed all night. Time rolled on as slowly as it had ever passed before and the dawn was cold, like ice itself. The blowing breeze was chill and made him shiver. Feeling useless and not being able to do anything, Legolas got up and walked to the balcony, looking over into the gardens and stretches of land. Beneath him, servants were scuttling around already, working though their orders desperately. The Prince turned and crept out of the room, barely making a noise.  
  
The houses of Rivendell were bathed in an almost eerie, morning light. As he walked down the arched, exposed, corridors thoughts rushed through his head and he was barely able to hold on to one of them long enough to think about it. He often thought he should have stayed in Ithillien, but for the sadness in his heart, it was only a veil to hide the pain inside. Looking at the Silvan Prince one would have thought that emotions would ever hold power over him. His fair face was young and handsome and his limbs were fit and strong. Yet, in spite of his looks, his green eyes let his disguise down entirely. Sadness flowed, like an everlasting ocean of pain. The twinkling light that had once been there, and that was in the vision of all, had gone out.  
  
The long corridor was suddenly opened out, like a long bridge with an ornate ceiling. Arched windows were lined along the walkway at around naval level. Beams of blinding silver light burst through the holes in the entwining silver-wrought panels. Legolas turned and lay his arms on one of the panel ledges. He sighed as he took in the view under him. The gushing waterfall filled his ears. People were but tiny, black, pinpricks, moving against the icy cold sky. Sweeps of rising, fluffy mist was silhouetted in contrast to the sharp, blue colouring of the sky.  
  
Legolas sensed movement behind him. He swung around to face his companion. Myria stood there, fumbling slightly with her hands. She gave him a weak smile and The Prince noticed watery tears swimming at the bottom of her eyes. He turned his head slowly looking back over the valley. Myria shuffled forward and joined him.  
  
"You were right, as usual. He didn't come." She said defiantly, though her voice skipped a note slightly.  
  
Legolas' eyes met hers and he held his gaze to his sister. She looked utterly miserable and let down. The Prince put an arm around his sister.  
  
"Don't worry. There is always time." He said slowly, doubting it in his heart and feeling an anger towards the Hobbit, for merely not being there.  
  
Myria knew what he was thinking as his chest rose slightly. She hated it when he was right. But the sorrow in her heart did not compare to being right or wrong. If her love did ever come back, would it be guaranteed he would give her his love in return? Myria and Legolas stood there for sometime, watching the misty sun, rise over the horizon. As daylight stirred, their thoughts drifted away, as did the wispy clouds, to some distant place unknown.  
  
Chapter 10  
  
The waiting of news  
  
The Prince did not tell his sister of his vision, for he could tell it would just worry her even more so. He could not bare it to watch as she sat in her chamber, her fair head facing the balcony window. Myria searched the vast, sweeping, lawns of grass, for a sighting of visitors coming into Rivendell. Her heart leapt when she heard an ever so distant gallop of horses' feet. Legolas spent most of his days wandering the halls of the houses; free of the troubles he carried in Mirkwood. Somehow, a strange force kept him drawn back to his homeland which he wished he did not carry. He, however, fought it and tried to enjoy his short spell of freedom – so he thought of it. Rivendell was fast approaching autumn and the sunlight was golden, twinkling, like golden dust through the amber-brown leaves of the dying vegetation. Although it seemed, as the winter would chase the beauty of summer away, Rivendell kept its grace at all times. This, regretfully, was something Mirkwood did not seem to hold. Like both of the realm's Lords', their surroundings were very close to their characters'. Mirkwood was strong and dark, but seemed to hold a mysterious power over its inhabitants. Its true identity was concealed under a thick veil of branches and leaves. Rivendell however, was quite the opposite. Its elegance and beauty could have been identified straight away. Something so pure and true held its essence. No evil could strike this place.  
  
Two weeks had passed since Legolas and Myria had arrived in Rivendell and still no outcome had made its presence felt. Myria started to feel as if she should lose hope and that if she had listened to her brother then it would not have happened in the first place.  
  
Legolas awoke one morning, the autumn breeze playing, across his face. The first movements he made were to the high windows. As his eyes scanned far and wide, beginning to focus, a series of tiny, black, pinpricks became visible. The golden sun was wrapped with a clinging mist, making it look more like a winter moon, in the dead of night, ghostly and alone. Even though it gave off a translucent light, it blinded his eyes making him screw them up automatically. Rubbing them with his fingertips, he blindly made for the door, yawning as he grasped the handle.  
  
The hall to dine was decorated much like the rest of the rooms. The sand- coloured stone positively glowed in the morning light and was deeply engraved, so finely of entwining patterns. A long table, made of polished wood, gleamed in the middle of the hall. Pillars of stone surrounded it, reaching high up into the shadowed ceiling. The chairs lined down the table looked almost too delicate to sit on, with their high, narrow backs and fine silk covers. The silver cutlery glittered alongside the glass goblets, enamelled with swirling gold, as if spun from the stars.  
  
The Prince was far too early, as he was the only occupant of the room. Playfully he flicked a slender finger against the glass, creating a beautiful ringing sound that echoed against the walls and into the shadows. He smiled to himself and noticed some steps behind him, giving off a pearly light of the outside. As he climbed them, the world opened up to his eyes. Sheltering then with his hand he saw the pinpricks' realistic shape. Two small ponies rode one behind each other, with such grace that could not have been expected of them. His heart gave a sudden jolt as he thought who could be possibly riding them. He thought of his sister and with not a second thought ran back in the direction he came from. His delicate fingers trembled slightly as he went to grasp the handle of Myria's door. The oak grumbled as it opened as if awoken from a deep sleep. The chamber was filled with a silvery translucent light. Legolas noticed the body of his sister draped in the satin sheets and hesitated. She looked so peaceful, a beautifully calm expression on her face. The prince remembered the dream he had experienced and smiled at how Myria was so alike his mother in grace and beauty. Deciding she would rather be surprised he turned his heel and crept out the room.  
  
Legolas made his way to the North tower. His feet carried him up the smooth steps of intricate metal and his hands slipped absent mindedly over the spindly banisters of fashioned iron. He soon found himself at his destination. Arches towered above his head meeting in a burst of ivy and stone. It was like an open cage keeping safe from the dangers of the world allowing him just to see over the valley cliffs and borders. The distant black pinpricks that had been visible before were now edging closer in the form of two valiant horses. Legolas' jaw tensed slightly for it was horses' bringing that made his stomach turn over. His keen gaze dropped to his feet. In confusion he searched for something that he knew he couldn't find. Those bright green eyes drifted to the spot they were fixed on before. Deceiving his heart his lips curved into a resentful smile. Legolas turned his retrieving back on the gaining visitors.  
  
The Prince found his legs forcing into a run. He cut through the halls the breeze resisting him blowing back his fair hair. Myria's door flung open she head jolted up in surprise her eyes wide and demanding a light of desperation in them; this made Legolas swallow through his quick breathing. He gave an awkward smile at his sister which, she thought, he clearly didn't want to be giving. To match the smile there was a strange look in his eyes also that she hadn't seen before in him.  
  
"Khila Amin." He spoke softly.  
  
He gently gasped her fingers, cocking an eyebrow he half led – half pulled Myria into the Rivendell courtyard.  
  
Chapter 11  
  
Gain and Sacrifice  
  
Myria fixed a gaze of utter confusion at her brother's face. To try and interpret his expression was to be difficult. It was a look of joy for her with its small smile, but was deceived, by the solemn seriousness that was permanently in his eyes and that prominently expressed his feelings. Myria chose to ignore this in curiosity of what her brother had led her to. A clatter of slowing hooves caused her spin around. Two chestnut brown horses stood proudly side by side. Elven soldiers stood by their steeds dressed in their deep midnight blue uniforms and armed with their bows. They dutifully helped down the other passengers.  
  
"Frodo!" Myria cried as the hobbits were stood on the pale chalky ground.  
  
The Hobbit gave a weak almost painful smile as he gazed up into her face, but there was joy through the pain. Legolas felt the time of Frodo's life was slipping through their fingers. The journey to the Havens would have to be a quick one. The Prince sensed an elf slide next to him. An urgent silky whisper spoke into his ear.  
  
"My Lord Legolas, Lord Elrond wishes to speak with you urgently."  
  
The leather encased feet padded away with their words of mystery.  
  
Legolas slipped away from the scene of reunion – not that anyone noticed until his retreating back was submerged in the cool shadows of the halls. Myria turned expecting her brother's fair face to smile at her in return. Her own smile was washed from her expression slowly in slight disappointment. She merely turned back to her returning companions and led them away from the chilling, crisp autumn sun.  
  
"Legolas." The Lord uttered. "I was so very wrong."  
  
Elrond's eyes looked absorbed with pain and weariness. The lines around them had deepened and his strength had failed him, constricting him to his chair. Legolas' face was a moment of sadness and utter pity.  
  
"Blood stained the plains of Minhiriath last night as the forces of Harlindon tore the canvas of Middle earth. The Western elves of Eryn Vorn have been slain – There was no escape but that of warning – I should have known. Miraculously they crossed the rivers of Mitheithel and the Bruinen, how they travelled so far, I do not know." Elrond had rushed this with more and more anger edging into his voice. He looked at Legolas with desperation.  
  
"They will be here by nightfall."  
  
Blunt and raw realisation hit Legolas' head with crushing speed.  
  
"We must move south. Towards Moria Gate, Towards the Swanfleet, we cannot afford to lose Rivendell. We will meet them there and fight, we have won before, they can try and take us but if we have to - we will die fighting." The Prince said this with fear but his voice was strong and defiant.  
  
Elrond lifted his head and gave a smile.  
  
"Alert the smiths, we need armour, and fast. Gather all those able to fight boys, servants, and men. There are no limits. Light the warning beacons."  
  
Legolas merely blinked at the information jamming his head and turned his heel. Walking down the halls he was numb, he stopped. Flexing his fingers he moved his joints into action and ran down the marble paved floors.  
  
Strong arms pulled the heavy reins of horses against their resistance. Scorching fire blazed through the hay in the beacon brackets. Like blasts of heat the other beacons were lit into the distance one by one. The warning horn was blown piercing the calm silence that bathed peacefully in the fair valley of Rivendell.  
  
Myria's head turned violently as the war calls filled her ears. Her bright eyes searched the ceiling in anxiety as she acknowledged the situation. A few servant heads that were normally down turned in duty jerked up in shock. Myria turned back to the Hobbits.  
  
"I'm sorry I'll find out what's happening. Jeniré! Please look after these gentlemen, make sure that they are comfortable." The Princess fled down the candlelit hall after her last words had been spoken to her hand servant.  
  
The scene that filled Legolas' eyes brought pearly tears of deep running sadness to the surface of them. Young boys and Teenagers were being fixed with heavy armour, weighing down their limbs with metal and leather. Rough sword hilts were being pressed into their shaking palms. Their fingers grasped them in fear, their faces so hopeful, young and desperate. Men wound strips of linen around their hands with resentful expressions. Their eyes were blank and hopeless knowing their doomed fate. Mothers held their sons in their arms for the last time. Tears streaked their pale, shocked faces, hands clutched at the bodies of their loved ones, and Pain spilled through and had flooded their hearts. Lovers cried out and savoured the last agonising moments of their time as one together and pleaded at the ending, light fingertip touches as they were pulled apart. But through the crowd Myria stood. A single shimmering tear raced down her cheek her eyes lost in the confusion. She ran towards her brother in blind panic and collided with his body with numbing force. The embrace tightened at her thoughts of losing him and her chest shook with the river of salty tears that ran through her heart. She worked up the strength she had to look up into his face. Hers was sodden and she was surprised to see that he would not cry.  
  
"You will come back?" She choked. "You will."  
  
Legolas looked deep into her eyes searching through the outbursts of green. A sweet smile played on his lips.  
  
"Amin mela Lle – I love you." He whispered and he placed his hands on the sides of her head and brought her forehead to his lips.  
  
The Prince turned and mounted his horse. With a swift pull of the reins and a storm of echoing hooves he was gone.  
  
Chapter 12  
  
The Last Alliance  
  
Outbursts of scarlet light foiled the copper sky. Heavy drums shook the plains of Nîn-in-Eilph and there the last soldiers stood.  
  
Legolas' eyes gazed into the horizon searching desperately for the fate that would shake his people to their death. The riders stood tall, their shaking fingers clasping the reins of their horses. The chill wind whispered the tale of their future on its icy lips. There, lining the Swanfleet marshes they waited. An outcry of a stallion from the South jerked the elves' heads in its direction. Legolas' heart leapt in surprise as the stallion reared up onto its hind legs. A small fleet of soldiers emerged behind it. With baited breath the elves anticipated the arrival of these new allies, there to support them, when all hope had been in vain.  
  
The earth was bound to the steady undying beat of the drums that shook it. Legolas smiled weakly at his brothers Amandil and Astaldir who brought their horses to stand proudly by his side.  
  
"We shall do this together." Amandil spoke to his brother. "Too often have we fought alone. Mirkwood offers you its support."  
  
The elder prince smiled as turned to look at the stronger army that he along with Astaldir had provided for his sibling. Legolas' chest rose with his ever-growing confidence and swallowed, as his eyes returned to the horizon.  
  
"I'narr en gothrim glinuva nuin I'anor, – The bones of our foes will gleam under the sun, Lye nuquernuva sen e dagor! – We will defeat them in battle! Amandil shouted to his small followers.  
  
The war drums faltered their steady beat. Realisation crushed the hearts of the young, and despair poisoned the hearts of the old. With the silence of the drums they soon made their presence felt once more. A horn pierced the cold dusk air and fire burned the earth in a scorching roar. Black figures lined the distance and in a surge of fury and pride rode towards their fearful opponents. Legolas' brow furrowed in deep agony...  
  
"Sii'! – Now!" The Prince shouted to his soldiers.  
  
The steeds eased into reluctant action charging with extreme force. The ground was beaten with hooves and dust clouded the path of the soldiers. Both armies collided in a crash of iron and silver. Swords glittered in setting sun and crimson blood stained the plains and soaked the floor in death. The bitter faces of the Drows taunted their opponents into scornful rage. Frail bodies fell to the floor on both sides. Fire burned their limbs to remain as a result of their people. Arrows soared through the air like hawks, descending swiftly down onto their prey and piercing their flesh. Hollow shouts of pain and fury arose into the sky from the men below in a definite struggle. The frail bodies of the dying lay in heaped piles, scattered, like the leaves in Autumn falling from their branches caught in the wind. Slain cavalry horses lay over the bodies and the rotting dust. Legolas fought endlessly and each time his opponent fell. His sword took the lives of his foe and their blood stained it. It impressed on his heart more and more deeply with each delft blow his weapon took. A sudden cry made the Prince's blood run cold. As he slowly turned his head he witnessed his younger brother Astaldir fall to the floor in a helpless clatter of armour.  
  
"No!" Legolas screamed as he ran towards his brother.  
  
Desperately he pulled Astaldir's body from the turmoil and carnage behind him. The Prince bent over his form and painfully examined the damage. Deep red blood stained Astaldir's lips as he sharply coughed and it oozed down his chin leaving pools on the silver armour. Legolas closed his eyes and brought his brother's head to his jaw. His chestnut coloured hair was clogged together with the cold sweat of his fight and the damp drizzle falling from the sky.  
  
"Amin hiraetha - I'm sorry." The elf muttered into his brother's chest.  
  
Legolas laid Astaldir's heavy head to rest back onto the ground. The Prince blocked out the crushing noise of the battle against his back. He looked into his brother's fading eyes. His bloodless lips uttered silent words never to be heard. Beads of glistening sweat formed on his milky white brow.  
  
"No." Legolas said through brimming tears. "Don't give in!"  
  
Regardless to his defiant words Legolas' heart did not follow what he was speaking. With a sharp intake the Prince Astalindir took his last breath of life and fell into darkness. A single tear ran down Legolas' cheek as he held the limp body of his brother in his arms. His shaking hand reached out to the sword hilt that had defended his brother's life so ineffectively. The Prince lay the humble weapon across its bearer's chest as clasped Astalindir's icy fingers around the golden hilt. He brought his tear stained lips to his kinsman's forehead and gently rested it back onto the ground.  
  
Filled with a great consuming hate and anger Legolas retrieved his sword. His heart ached with sadness and pity and all thought was bent on revenge. Lifting his blade, with all the force in his body Legolas brought it down upon the first opponent that it met. A deathly cry confirmed its accuracy and blood seeped into the ground. The Prince slowly walked over the rising carnage of the battle dealing deathly blows to his defence when numerous Drows lunged out into attack. Legolas eventually found what he was looking for. The twisted face of his brother's killer confronted his.  
  
The Drow King's face was a deathly white colour, flawless and as dazzling as a full moon in spring. His lips contorted in rage were a shining black glistening with spittle from his fight. His flowing ebony hair was caught in the wind and whipped back. Before Legolas had time to act spider-like fingers reached out and snapped at the collar of a young elven boy, fighting a losing battle with an adult Drow twice his height. The King raised the boy by his throat till he was level to his face. The child's breathing was quick and acute as fear coursed through his veins. His feet kicked the air in desperation and struggle. His tiny hands clutched at the King's spindly fingers wrapped around his throat. Legolas' eyes snapped backed to King's face. A sick smile danced upon his tar like lips, his right hand slipped to his belt, and an unsheathed blade glittered wickedly inside of it. The twisted Lord swiftly whipped the weapon to the boy's windpipe, and before the elven Prince could try and change this small child's fate he had drawn a ghastly line of crimson blood across his neck. It ran down onto the Drow's pale fingers and bitterly contrasted on his skin. The king's grip loosened, dropping the boy to the floor. His hopeless eyes gazed up at Legolas and cried out in desperate pain. The Drow venomously licked his bloodstained fingers with his tongue and let the blood drip down his chin. Apart from feeling sick in horror Legolas' anger swelled intensely. The Prince looked into those cavernous black eyes, which somewhere in the deep darkness of them glittered with evil. Legolas could no longer bear to watch the Drow's hideous smirk leering at him. He lifted his sword and in one delft, unexpected movement slid the blade through his deadly opponent's torso. The hand that clasped the hilt hit the Drow's robe. The King's breath was cold against his face, as the opposing monarchs were both level to each other.  
  
"I'quelin Mori' Quessier naa ba Mori'Quessier. – The best Drow is a dead Drow." Legolas spat bitterly at the Lord.  
  
The Drow merely laughed and gave an exasperated grunt as Legolas retrieved his sword from his opponent's body. The defeated King fell down onto his knees and clutched at the sodden crimson patch on his robe. As he gazed slowly at the blood on his hand he began to laugh bitterly again.  
  
A horn pierced the air and Legolas looked out to the rising sun in the East. It's golden light framed the sooty grey mountains and reflected off of their snow-capped peaks. The elven stallions returned to their owners like a flock of pigeons to their homing nests. Survivors arose from the carnage that the war had brought them. Bodies lay in dismal piles for leagues around. Sadness hung in the morning air but rain suddenly spilled from the skies of Middle Earth and cleansed its inhabitants, washing away their fears and bringing hope.  
  
Legolas walked blindly across the battlefield, and with an absent mind he gripped Estelle's reins, and led her forward, East towards Rivendell.  
  
Chapter 13  
  
A Light in Shadow  
  
The clatter of Estelle's hooves echoed in the valley of Rivendell. She had travelled far but she had travelled half the way alone. The Princess of Mirkwood sat at the window of the highest tower. She gazed out into the valley and through the torrents of rain that spilled down endlessly from the heavens. Myria looked down to the bridges that arched their wooden limbs over the Bruinen waters below. Estelle's silvery tail caught the light and tempted Myria's eyes to her fair form. The princess's mind clicked in realisation and she flew down the passages and stairs of Elrond's house. Myria snatched a cloak from the nearest elven servant and fixed it hastily around her shoulders. The rain slowed her speed as she ran towards her brother's stead. It was only until she reached the horse and ran a slender hand across her bare sodden back that Myria realised that Estelle indeed had come back alone.  
  
"Estelle...Mani marte? – Estelle...What happened? Myria gasped.  
  
The horse only issued bursts of hot steam into the chill air from her nose and neighed in distress.  
  
"Manke naa ro? – Where is he?" Myria desperately whispered.  
  
The rain poured even more heavily down onto the valley and the Bruinen rivers and streams were starting to swell. Myria wiped her sopping hair from her eyes and searched the distance for any sign of life. Beginning to lose all hope the Princess gave up and grasped Estelle's sodden reins with her icy fingers. With all her remaining strength she pulled Estelle up the bridges into the courtyard of Elrond's house.  
  
Legolas reached the bridges of Elrond's houses. With no sense of urgency and all the sorrow in his heart he walked up to the main gates. Like stepping into a hot bath the warmth from inside the palace flooded around him and his senses began to make their presence felt again. A pool of water formed around his feet dripping from his clothes and face. Soullessly he walked, and found himself knocking at two great, solid doors of oak carved in the most elaborate detail. Tales of old were depicted in the velvety texture of the heavily polished wood. Legolas scanned them in false wonder giving his mind a chance to not think about what he would have to say next.  
  
Minutes later a deep solemn voice uttered his leave to come in.  
  
"Tula e. – Come in."  
  
Legolas' stiff fingers pushed open the doors to the Lord Elrond's chamber. He recognised the lofty room that he had entered before. The elven Lord lifted his head to look at the intruder. He suddenly gave a start and stood to greet the elf but his face fell.  
  
"Legolas, you return so early, are you alone?" Elrond spoke.  
  
"Yes. I travelled alone. What is left of our people, are not far behind." The prince replied in remorse.  
  
"What is left? Did we fall? Were we defeated?" The Lord's anxiety rose as he watched the mournful Prince's face.  
  
"No. The Drows fell, as did the opposing dwarves. Many of our side died fighting, I believe fifty will return from the two thousand that set off from Rivendell seven days ago." Legolas said with a blank tone to his voice.  
  
"So many..." Elrond whispered in shock. "How did the fighting cease? He asked.  
  
"I killed their leader. I believe after that they surrendered." The Prince replied.  
  
"Well done Legolas. You are a light to your people." Elrond smiled  
  
"As was my brother Astalindir, he died fighting for his people. I hope his light will for ever shine far brighter than mine." Legolas spoke in reminisce.  
  
Elrond's face fell and regained all the lines of worry, which had disappeared for a moment when he had received the news he, was waiting for.  
  
"I am very sorry for your grave loss. You wouldn't mind for the celebrations to go on s normal would you?" He asked.  
  
The Prince merely nodded his head in permission and slowly turned his heel to go.  
  
Chapter 14  
  
Greeting News with Anger  
  
The rich mahogany table was lined with guests from different realms and races all over Middle Earth. The Lord Elrond sat at the very top end of the table looking down at his guests and the delicate glass cutlery glinting in the warm candlelight. Myria looked anxiously around the room for a face, other than the ones that she had already acknowledged that she knew. She felt uncomfortable sitting in an elegant gown of lilac, her golden hair twisted into a tiara of elven silver and amethyst when others in the room looked so grave in travelling cloaks. Servants in their uniforms of night- blue silk lined the sandy walls. Her father Lord Thranduil looked as calm as ever in robes of pale green and his crown of leaves entwined into his silky flaxen hair. The Sindarin King knew that one of his sons was dead, hoping it was one rather than the other he was to be sadly surprised. Two other elves entered the room through the back doors, so quietly that many inhabitants of the chamber did not notice. They walked silently to Elrond's side and sat down on two obviously placed chairs.  
  
Myria looked up in surprise to see her two elder brother's sitting at the top end of the table. Thranduil also looked up in extreme shock and hastily walked out of the room almost at a run. Legolas lowered his eyes in realisation and swallowed slightly.  
  
"As you may have already guessed we are here in celebration of our victory over King Morierí of the Drows of the West Coast. However joyous this occasion is, I am afraid to say that many died in their defeat. On average we lost around one thousand and five hundred soldiers."  
  
As Lord Elrond spoke these words murmuring escaped around the hall.  
  
"I am deeply saddened to have lost so many of our people and I share all of your losses and bear them upon my heart. Many of different hierarchy died for us to live in peace and all sacrifice was fair. To prove this, I am saddened to tell you that we have lost our dear Prince and brother Astalindir of Mirkwood." Elrond continued.  
  
Hearing these words Myria clasped a hand to her lips in shock. She looked up to Legolas who she knew must have been with him when he died. A pearly tear ran down her cheek as she confronted the truth in all its bitterness. Suddenly the Princess thought of Thranduil, and she looked back to her brother and felt fear for him.  
  
Legolas sat in numbness in front of the court; Hearing none of the words that were swimming around his head. The hands that lay in his lap were shaking, as like his sister, he too had thought of Thranduil and the consequences of him knowing about the death of his son.  
  
The people in the hall filed out into the corridors, full of saddened thoughts about who they may have lost or known. Legolas was one of the last members of the council to leave the room. Myria had made no attempt of speaking to him, too absorbed in her own grief she retired to her own chamber.  
  
As the Prince walked into the corridor two hands grabbed his collar and slammed him against the wall. His shoulders felt the full force of his attacker's actions and ached deeply. Legolas found himself looking into the face of his father which was contorted with rage.  
  
"How did you let my son die." Thranduil spat at the Prince his face reddening with swelling anger.  
  
"Astalindir died fighting for you and your realm." Legolas replied defiantly.  
  
"How dare you! You made him fight and you killed him too. You just let him be butchered by the Drows did you? You just stood by and watched. Never a thought of defence for your own flesh and blood. You make me sick to think that part of me is inside of you." The King spoke threateningly into the Prince's ear.  
  
"Well if what you say is true, then I'll know where I got it from won't I?" Legolas retorted taking a risk.  
  
Thranduil's face was a picture of utter anger as he looked upon his son. His temper broke as it often did and he hit Legolas' with a crushing force upon his face. The Prince slowly brought a slender hand up under his nose and looked down at the scarlet blood upon his fingers. His brow furrowed at the acknowledgement of the damage and he simply walked away from the King and from the anger and damage that he might enforce on his body next.  
  
Chapter 15  
New Faces and New Beginnings  
  
Legolas woke the next morning with a sore head and a heavy heart. The blinding Rivendell light that filled his room in the morning caused him to squint and rub his eyes to adjust. He gave a start as he noticed a figure sitting by his bed. Myria cautiously smiled at him as she realised that he had woken.  
  
"Legolas. Coramin lindua ele lle. Nae saian luume. Lle tyava quel? Amin hiraetha, lle anta est. – Legolas. My heart sings to see thee. It has been too long. Do you feel well? I'm sorry, you need to rest." Myria said to her brother.  
  
"Hello Myria, don't leave, I'm feeling a lot better. You have something to tell me?" Legolas said hoarsely to his sister, shifting his body to try and sit upright.  
  
"Well, I know you haven't thought about it, why should you? Far worst troubles lay upon your shoulders. But anyway I just thought I'd tell you that Frodo was transformed. He's called Enris now. It was painful, apparently." She muttered quickly.  
  
Legolas' green eyes fixed on her face. Her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes were bright as she just talked about the subject. He gave a weak smile to support her slightly.  
  
"I'm happy for you." Legolas replied with as much feeling as he could muster for her.  
  
"What happened to your nose?" Myria asked with a frown with her own hidden suspicions.  
  
"Nothing." He replied bluntly. "So when can I meet the famous Enris then? Legolas asked on a happier note.  
  
"Oh! Well you've missed him. He's going to learn elvish somewhere but we'll meet him back at Mirkwood soon. We really must travel back you know. We've spent far too long here already and Father needs us back also." She rushed.  
  
"Well that's all right then." Legolas muttered bluntly.  
  
"It would be a good idea to pack really. We might be going tonight." Myria added as she reached the doorframe.  
  
Legolas followed his sister's advice and moved his joints into action. Servants flitted in and out of his room constantly throughout the day, adding things to his growing pile of luggage and asking if he needed anything. At dusk the Prince stood at his window surveying the view. He was dressed in the clothes that he had travelled in and his bow and quiver was slung over his back. The winter's chill breath licked the tips of the amber leaves below and covered them in a glittering white dust. The early Hisime – November air chilled Legolas' pale skin, and caused him to shiver. He sensed someone enter his room.  
  
"Sut naa lle sina re? – How are you doing today?" A soft voice asked. Legolas recognised it as Amandil's.  
  
"Iire lye auta? - When do we leave? The prince replied choosing not to answer the question that his brother had granted him to.  
  
Legolas turned and looked upon his brother. Amandil was dressed, similarly to himself in a fine tunic, though his was a silvery grey that shimmered mysteriously in the evening light. Velvet leggings encased his legs, held up with strong boots of tender calf's leather. His pale flaxen hair was pulled back into a tight braid at the back of his head and his sword was sheathed also in leather at his waist. Amandil's calm grey eyes stared at his brother's wary face. Legolas often mused that an ocean of serene peace swam in those melancholy eyes of his and they calmed him somewhat.  
  
"The horses are saddled and ready." Amandil smiled gently. "Lle desiel? – Are you ready?  
  
Legolas turned his head once more to gaze out into the valley of Rivendell. He spotted the tiny pinpricks that were his people mounting their horses. Back facing his brother, he slowly gave a sad smile and picked up the bag resting on his satin sheets.  
  
Chapter 16  
Returning home  
  
The tall Oak's of Mirkwood were like x-rays. Their spindly, broken limbs giving a deathly contrast to the dark midnight sky framed by the dazzling light from the thousands of stars twinkling on a sea of ebony. The lamps of the travellers bathed the shadows in warm pools of fiery illumination. The candle beams highlighted the rich wine coloured hues in the great doors of the Mirkwood Palace. The shadowed riders dismounted their fair horses and did not turn to watch them disappear into the blackness and obscurity of the wood's night. A whisper breathed into the grain of the wood made them twist and shift apart allowing the travellers to enter the shaded palace and slip off into their desired rooms and chambers. Conflict settled between two siblings in some distant corridor of the Royal dwelling. Legolas stood in disagreement with his sister Myria.  
  
"Why can't you admit? Tell him" The tall elf whispered through gritted teeth to his sister.  
  
"He knows already, I'm sure of it." She replied softly a note of fear edging her voice.  
  
Legolas turned his fair head in disbelief.  
  
"Come on, this is our father we are talking about." He scorned. "What does he know about love?"  
  
Myria's face reddened slightly in anger.  
  
"How can you say that? After all he's done for you!" She said almost in disgust of her brother's disloyalty.  
  
She knew the conversation would not end well.  
  
"Name one single good thing that he's done for me?" Legolas retorted angrily.  
  
Myria's face fell. She looked towards the floor.  
  
"I thought we would never speak of that again." She said quietly in remorse and sadness.  
  
"How can I forget it all?" Legolas hissed "It still haunts my sleep."  
  
Myria was frightened. She never had seen her brother this angry before. A lone tear ran down her soft cheek. Legolas pulled a sickened face.  
  
"How can I?" She sobbed painfully.  
  
Legolas looked at her with concern.  
  
"You love him, yes?" He asked her.  
  
"Yes with all my heart." She replied slowly with feeling.  
  
Legolas sighed deeply. "Then it shouldn't be so difficult." He pondered on why his sister was so hesitant.  
  
Myria's sadness and pity quickly changed into anger once more. "Oh what would you know!" She spat back at him. "You've never loved anyone as I have and you never will, the person that you are!"  
  
As soon as the harsh words had escaped her lips, she drew a hand to her mouth and gave a gasp. Strands of her silky golden hair fell down from its clasp and framed her face. Legolas only stood there. His hands were clenched, his nails cutting grooves into his soft palms. His face was contorted into a sad, rage and he looked down towards his feet. When he found the courage to lift his face again, watery tears swam at the bottom of his eyes. The redness of his cheeks that had expressed his anger was quickly fading.  
  
"Legolas." Myria gasped. "I'm sorry...so sorry."  
  
She went to grasp his wrist but he pulled away. Legolas pushed past her and strode down the hallway almost running from her shocked face.  
  
"Legolas." Myria whispered desperately her voice shaking slightly.  
  
After a while of merely standing there, the Princess followed her brother's last steps. She traced them silently to his chamber. Myria breathed heavily through her nose, dreading what Legolas was doing to himself. She backed against the cool marble walls as she heard the dry sobs that racked his masculine shoulders.  
  
"Oh Legolas." she sighed  
  
Legolas wiped the pearly tears from his pale skin in the back of his hand. He sniffed.  
  
"I'll prove her wrong." He whispered to himself before resting down into an uneasy sleep.  
  
Myria also did no sleep well. She lay between the silk sheets, a red-hot poker of guilt pressed against her throat and down her back. She had been so wrong, blinded in anger and lashed out at the person who was trying to help her. She, like her brother, cried herself to sleep. An ache in the pit of her stomach confirmed the emptiness she had been feeling since she had departed with Enris. She longed to feel his soft breathing next to her and to hear his quiet, comforting words.  
  
The next morning Myria awoke. The sun shone, glittering through the window, and bathed the room in an eerie pale gold light. She slowly sat up and eased her back. Her eyes were red and sore, and her hair was damply stuck to the side of her face. Myria's slender hand found her dressing table and sweeping it along it's polished wood she knocked into her Arian comb. She examined it carefully, realising that it was the one that Legolas had bought for her. The Arian was fashioned into entwining Celtic patterns, pure, glittering rubies winking at her, embedded in the slender polished silver.  
  
Legolas awoke early, the winter light blinding him as he opened his eyes. He was drenched in uncomfortable, cold sweat. The silk sheets stuck to him and he put a trembling hand to his brow. In truth, like he said, his father did still haunt his sleep. Similarly to Myria's, his emerald eyes were swollen too. He quickly got dressed and walked slowly onto his balcony. It over-looked the skeletal treetops and the cold, light breeze caught his hair. Grasping the edge of the stone loosely he leaned out into the air. As pain over took him it was too much to bear. He looked swiftly down at the hard, cruel ice-ridden earth below him. Suddenly an invisible force that was his strength to carry on pulled him back. He pressed against the cold marble, breathing quickly, and decided to use the stairs.  
  
Myria walked into the large dining hall and sat next to her brother Amandil, placing her hands on the table impatiently. It took a while for him to acknowledge that she had joined him. He placed his glass back down onto the mahogany and turned to face her.  
  
"What's wrong?" He asked calmly.  
  
Amandil resembled Legolas greatly in appearance. He was tall and strong and he shared Legolas' passion for the outdoors. But Amandil was a lot calmer than his brother and often gave good council. Myria jerked back to reality to answer her brother's question.  
  
"Oh I'm sure it'll sort itself out." She replied quietly.  
  
Amandil gave her a frown.  
  
"Ah. Where's Legolas?" He asked curiously.  
  
Myria gasped in surprise and accidentally knocked over a crystal decanter full of elven wine.  
  
"Oh!" She moaned as the ruby liquid seeped into the pearly tablecloth.  
  
Amandil caught her hand to distract her.  
  
"What has he done now?" He asked sternly.  
  
"It was my fault." Myria sobbed rushing her words. "I said some horrible things."  
  
Amandil sighed and rose from the table gracefully.  
  
"Don't worry. I'll find him." He told her before disappearing around the doorframe.  
  
"Legolas!" Amandil called to the tree trunks.  
  
The Prince he was looking for as stretched across a broad cherry blossom branch, his back supported by the bare boughs. He watched his breath condense in clouds of steam above him and his hands were protecting the back of his head. He slowly glanced down at his brother and whistled sharply to gain his attention and to help his search. Amandil gazed up at him in disbelief and raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Still climbing trees are we Legolas?" He laughed. "Myria's worried about you." He said quietly on a more serious note.  
  
"I'm surprised that she could worry about such an awful person." Legolas retorted cynically.  
  
Amandil shook his head and turned his heel realising no compromise could possibly be made.  
  
"Te'ro tereva? – Is he all right?" Myria asked anxiously as her brother reached her.  
  
"Unresponsive and stubborn, honestly there really is no change then is there?" Amandil mocked.  
  
"How can you say that?" Myria shouted at him, before running out of the room, tears cascading down her face.  
  
The angry winter clouds had turned to black and rolled venomously with thunder. Myria pulled at her brother's horse to leave the warm shelter of it's stable. Estelle protested at being taken away like this and struggled against Myria's desperate hands. Myria finally mounted the horse, her finely woven cloak already catching pools of raindrops in its folds. The icy rain coursed through her skin, chilling her through and through. Myria placed her cheek next to the horse's neck and whispered, "Run" into her coat that shone due to the clinging raindrops.  
  
The wind was against them as they coursed through the exposed trees. Spindly branches reached out their claws and tried to ensnare them as they rode on. Myria blinked back the rain, which was combined with pellets of ice and hail, stinging her hands and face. Estelle's hooves beat the ground and tore at the undergrowth. The horse slowed as they reached a clearing. Beams of eerie storm-light highlighted the circle of trees around them. Myria's head swung around in different directions, trying to make out an image through the screen of mist and water in front of her. The princess slid off of Estelle's back and her feet landed into puddles of mud and rainwater. She began to run. Her crystal gown caught on the undergrowth of the forest, snagging and ripping the silk and scratching at her feet. Through the distorted view Myria noticed a hunched up figure in the distance. Her heart pounded as she ran to it brushing her hair from her eyes.  
  
Legolas sat his back resting against the back of a birch tree. One of legs was pulled up towards his chest while the other lay limply on the ground. His clothes were a dull shade of their original colour due to the water absorbed in them. Both arms hung by his sides and his head had fallen back, his chin facing the sky. Rain poured in torrents down his face soaking his hair and body. Myria knelt down next to her brother. As she reached him he made no reaction. He just sat there, his fair hair was sopping wet and his absent face was lonely. Automatically the Princess reached for Legolas' palm. As her fingertips touched his skin, she felt the cold spread up into her hands. She began to lift his heavy hand up into her lap. Letting it go she went to touch his face. Blood stained her fingers and caused her to recoil. Myria's eyes glanced down to her brother's hand again. The leaves around it were tainted crimson. The Prince's fingers were bloodless and blue. A stream of blood trickled down onto his forefinger. The princess followed its path up towards his wrist. A wide gash had been painfully cut into his skin like a grotesque mouth uttering words of pain and loneliness. Tears blurred Myria's eyes as she surveyed the scene with horror. In his other hand was a long knife stained with his blood. His stiff fingers clutched around the hilt. The she-elf bent in towards his damp chest and spilt her tears into his heart. Legolas stirred, his brow furrowing in pain. Myria looked up and surveyed his face. Endless tears of sorrow poured from her heart as she clutched at his chest in desperation. The Princess called Estelle's name into the tree trunks around her and the horse faithfully responded the thump of her hooves echoing through the clearing. Myria hooked her hands under her brother's arms and around his back. With all her strength she dragged his body over the damp, decaying leaves to Estelle's hooves. Legolas' breath was sharp as he struggled to breathe. Myria's steed bent her forelegs down onto the ground, and lowered her fair head onto the floor. Careful not to touch his wounds Myria pulled Legolas onto Estelle's back with great strife. After she had helped her brother on, Myria mounted the horse herself, placing a hand behind Legolas' head to steady him.  
  
Chapter 17  
Meetings and Confrontation  
  
Myria sat in her chamber; her mind filtering through the ordeal she had had to face. Questions confronted her, ones that got no answers. Her brother had been cared for and saved, but it didn't set her mind at ease. Sadness hit her heart like a deathly blow. She spent many days in her chamber waiting, hoping that her love would come back to bring joy to her once more.  
  
One cold morning a brigade of horses swept through the shadow of Mirkwood. She desperately scanned through the canopy of treetops for a figure that resembled Enris but he was not there. The maiden started to cry, her hair hiding her pale face like a veil. Lying on her bed Myria drifted into a light, uneasy sleep. She was later awoken by cool, slender fingers running gently down her cheek. The night cloaked the intruder in darkness, forbidding his identity. Fear ran down her spine in an electric chill. Myria grabbed the intruder's wrist forcefully and twisted it behind his back. He writhed uncomfortably and in shock at her defence. The Princess rammed him down onto his knees.  
  
"Aiya! – Oh!" a soft voice moaned, that she suspiciously recognised.  
  
Myria let go of the hand as if it had stung her. Quickly she swiftly lit a candle, which illuminated the chamber.  
  
"Oh Enris!" Myria gasped as she stared at her lover, hands and knees on the cold, finely tiled floor, in a crouching position.  
  
His hazel, wavy hair covered his face. Slowly, Enris lifted his head and shock and bewilderment posed on his face. Myria held out her hand for him to grasp. He took it and she pulled him up.  
  
"I'm so sorry." The Princess said in shock.  
  
Enris simply raised his eyebrows.  
  
"I didn't realise that it was you, I just thought well, it might have been..." She gasped, her chest rising up and down rapidly.  
  
"Shhh." Enris soothed and gently placed a slender finger upon her candy pink lips.  
  
Myria let out a long sigh and pulled him in towards her body. He held her tenderly in his arms for what seemed to the lovers a blissful eternity. Both elves' looked deep into each other's eyes, counting the universes in between. Softly and temperately their lips met in a loving kiss that for both, had been waited and longed for.  
  
"Amin collie lle." Myria whispered to him. Enris hesitated. His brow furrowed in slight confusion.  
  
"What does that mean again?" He asked thoughtfully.  
  
Myria shook her head.  
  
"That's why you left me, to learn full elvish. Please don't tell me it was all in vain!" The maiden pleaded.  
  
"I couldn't really concentrate." Enris smiled smoothly as he surveyed Myria's shocked face. "I was thinking of you." He continued.  
  
The Princess gave a small childish giggle as she heard this and they kissed again. Both elves fell back upon the bed and held each other whilst the moon raised over the horizon.  
  
At dawn, Enris awoke to see Myria's calm, beautiful face in front of him. Tenderly he touched her pale skin and automatically assuming he was awake, the maiden's emerald green eyes flicked open. They both smiled.  
  
"It meant 'I miss you'." Myria whispered over Enris' shoulder as he held her tightly.  
  
"What did." He asked her, again, in confusion.  
  
"Amin collie lle." The Princess replied.  
  
"Oh!" The elf exclaimed and thought to himself for a moment. "Then – Amin collie lle ae – I missed you too." Enris grinned.  
  
Myria laughed at him.  
  
"Alright." She said. "Amin collie lle sai ikotane – I missed you so much."  
  
Enris raised one eyebrow playfully.  
  
"Very good." He joked.  
  
The amber and crimson light in Legolas' chamber flickered against the sandy walls as the fire in the hearth cackled playfully. The moon shone butter yellow through the white silk that hung over the balcony. The Prince sat rigidly upright in his bed, his eyes blank and emotionless, fixed on the blazing fire. Its flaming heat illuminated and burned his face as he stared transfixed, and his mind ached with his pain. No reaction was made as Legolas' door handle turned sharply. The King Thranduil stood in the doorway; his head high and confidence flowed as he moved. The Prince's eyes slowly shifted towards his father and then rooted in a jerk back to the fire. Effortlessly he eased his limbs out of bed and shuddered as his feet hit the icy stone floor. Legolas bowed uncertainly.  
  
"My Lord." The prince muttered slowly out of automatic knowing that he had to do so.  
  
Thranduil looked down his nose at his son, his eyes cold and empty like dark tunnels of murky brown mist circling in a ring of ebony. He carefully and deliberately paced around Legolas, his feet following an invisible path. The Prince's eyes slanted to his sword on the chair next to his bed.  
  
"Oh I wouldn't think about that if I were you." The King whispered dangerously.  
  
If someone had regained his attention when he had been in a trance Legolas' eyes spun back to his father, where his face grew grim.  
  
"Good boy." Thranduil mocked playfully, a note of self-humour in his voice.  
  
The elven prince let out a slow trembling sigh as the King's gaze surveyed him. Thranduil laughed and gritted his teeth.  
  
"Do I still scare you?" He spat in false concern.  
  
Legolas' mood changed from fear to anger. He flung around to leave but his father viciously caught his wrist in a snatch. Flames roared up in the Prince's eyes following the suit of the fire.  
  
"You can run but you can't hide." Thranduil sang in ridicule.  
  
Legolas clenched his fist and brought it down quickly and pulled himself free.  
  
"You're sick." He said through clenched teeth, anger rocking notes of his voice.  
  
"Are you sure?" Thranduil taunted venomously. "If I recall correctly its you that is a murderer. You killed your mother, your half brother, why; you even tried to kill your self I hear. Yet, somehow you haven't tried to kill me so far. Maybe I'm lucky; maybe you're conspiring right now?" The King continued to jeer.  
  
"I wonder how my mother could've standed you as long as she did. She died serving you, giving you me. Hating me you hate her. Is that right? My brother died serving you, my Lord, fighting for your land. Now who really is the murderer? Me, or you?" Legolas shouted at the top of his voice.  
  
Thranduil's face was a contorted state of anger, self-pity and realisation. No blame he could shift onto his son was available to him and his eyes searched the floor in confusion. The Prince's chest rose and fell rapidly with the shock of his contorts. Thranduil's cold eyes hit Legolas again with their cold brute force. He breathed heavily through his nose and with his anger pushed his son against the chamber wall. Legolas' head hit the plaster with all the animosity that his father had dealt him and the prince's mind blacked out.  
  
Chapter 18  
  
Gained trust  
  
Legolas' eyes gently flitted open into a dark room of blackened stone. A dull pain in his back was sore and the pain in his head was sharp and coarse. Pale golden sunshine flooded through a high window of rough steel, beams of light cascading down through the silver bars. Dense, stormy grey stone were the walls, floor and ceiling of this room and it contained no furniture. Legolas desperately tried to stand, but his knees failed him and he collapsed onto them. His swollen eyes slowly adjusted to the light enabling him to vaguely acknowledge that the room he was kneeling in wasn't a room at all, but a elven prison cell. Letting out a long weary sigh the pain in his head increased leaving it almost numb. The Prince went to rub his eyes automatically, but as his fingertips touched them the skin was sore around the brow of his right one. Dank pools of dirty water swam on the muddy stone beneath him, and as leant over them he distinguished a distorted image of himself. His eye was shadowed and blackened by deep bruising across his brow line and the side of his face. Hunger ached in his stomach and his mouth was dry like he had swallowed a cup of desert sand. A key rattled in the rotting oak doors enforced in a cage like skeleton of rusting steel. Figures entered the cell like holy silhouettes against the morning winter light. Backing back into the comfort of the shadows by a corner, Legolas enabled himself to establish who his companions were. A tall elf stood before him, with soft hazel hair and compassionate blue eyes that glittered like crystal, just occasionally, when they caught the light in their depth. He gently smiled regardless of the scene that filled his mind with shock and worry.  
  
"We meet once more Legolas." The elf said softly to him.  
  
Legolas strained his eyes as he looked up. "Enris?" He said shakily.  
  
The elf merely nodded putting his Prince at ease.  
  
Myria kneeled beside her brother and delicately touched his sickly pale face. Turning her golden head forcefully she glared at her father, standing by the doorway, a carefree expression on his face.  
  
"You haven't been feeding him!" Myria said defiantly and angrily.  
  
"He deserves it." The King muttered darkly, looking in disgust at his son.  
  
"Nobody deserves this." Enris mused to himself quietly.  
  
"Was I talking to you?" Thranduil snarled viciously.  
  
Myria chose to ignore his hateful comments and focus on her brother. Enris shifted uncomfortably sensing the King's anger and realised he was treading on thin ice. Myria grasped Legolas' hand tightly. She put all her strength into helping him stand but his knees buckled.  
  
"Enris..." Myria said with strain.  
  
Enris grasped Legolas' other arm and hauled him up steadily onto his shoulder. Myria gingerly let go as she felt her strength wasn't needed. The Prince's head rolled down onto his chest as his mal-nourishment took over his body and tempted him towards unconsciousness. As her lover carried Legolas out Myria scowled at her father.  
  
"I hope you realise what you do to him." She snapped.  
  
Thranduil laughed maliciously.  
  
"No more than he deserves." He spat back at her waged in his hostility and loathing.  
  
"No!" Myria retorted, provoked into anger. "I heard what he told you. Every word! And he was right. You've torn him; he won't ever heal. You've pushed him into such depression and pain that he won't ever heal. Can you live with yourself now you know you've done this? He was Ecra's child!"  
  
"Yes, he was!" Thranduil shouted. "He was the death of her."  
  
"Don't you see? She sacrificed herself for something you gave her. Something she expected you to cherish." Myria rushed, her voice slowly calming as she carried on to explain to him. "Legolas is a result of her love for you; and you've discarded him. I envy him for his mother, he doesn't have a father, he never had your love."  
  
A tear ran down Thranduil's face.  
  
"You've ignored so much. Your son and your wives died because they loved you. If Legolas had gone, he wouldn't have followed that pattern. He would've died of neglect." Myria whispered gently to her father.  
  
"I was blind." The King croaked wiping away his tears. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"I know. But I don't need an apology." The Princess soothed.  
  
Legolas was grateful for the warm bath water easing the pain from his joints. He soaked for a long while. Listening to the low sound of Myria and Enris talking in his chamber next door. Dressing quickly in a clean tunic and leggings he entered his chamber. Both elves turned to looked at him and stood at his arrival. The prince gave Enris a calm solemn look to which he returned and uttered his thanks. Enris held out his hand for Legolas to shake and he took it. Both men smiled weakly and Myria positively glowed with pride and happiness.  
  
Myria went to rest feeling truly content. She had her lover sleeping softly by her side and he had gained her brother's trust and respect  
  
Chapter 19  
Silent War  
  
Legolas stood in front of his mirror staring at the elf looking back at him. He turned his head not able to look at his reflection. Legolas' fingers dropped to his sword hilt and he drew it. The silver blade sparkled against the light mysteriously. His hand began to shake so he pressed it onto the holly wood that was below him. Legolas fell back onto his bed and pulled himself into a tight ball, tucking his legs towards his chest. Sleep beckoned him into an easy state of mind, which he eagerly followed to weak to resist.  
  
The Prince found himself in a room. It was dark, cruelly dark. He found it difficult to breathe as he remembered the fear he had once felt enclosing his chest. Jeering voices whispered echoing in his mind, bouncing but not escaping or fading the way they should. A shadow of a memory entered the room, a shadow that took form. He remembered it as cold and cruel filled with a malice so deep disguised for self pity and sadness. The figure walked over to him and laughed, it was hollow.  
  
"See what you are?" He spat. "A useless wreck."  
  
His father's voice uttered these words that he knew oh so well. Words that had tried to be forgotten as they, in sequence, were despised so much.  
  
"You killed you're mother, you filth, someone must kill your pride before other's find it hard to see through you." Thranduil spoke in a deadly whisper.  
  
He rammed his son against a wall. The numb feeling of pain and unpredictability was all to near and relived. Hands pinned down his fighting arms. Legolas struggled desperately and he shouted and kicked. None would hear his call. The prince clenched his fists recollecting what he knew would happen next. Thranduil's selfish jealousy poured into one enraged act that appalled the prince into depression and belief of nothingness. Disgusted tears spilled from his eyes, his teenage years filled in the horror of his father's assault. An icy blade fixed to his throat, his fear not ending so soon.  
  
"Breathe a word." A voice threatened.  
  
It pressed harder on his skin and was then whipped away.  
  
Legolas awoke; the satin sheets uncomfortably stuck to his body like glue. He sat upright and his breath caught in his chest as he frantically tried to breathe and gasp for air. Tears filled his panicked eyes once more.  
  
"No!" He whispered.  
  
His sweaty palms clamped to his brow. He shouted into the night, his pain coursing thought him to a level so intense nothing could compare.  
  
Myria awoke. In a blind and sleepy panic she tore her sheets from her body and ran out of the room. Enris sat up in confusion. The Princess's heart raced as she flung the door open to her brother's chamber. Suddenly her feet stopped to a halt.  
  
"Oh!" She moaned as she crept over to him.  
  
Myria wrapped her arms around him as he sobbed into her shoulder.  
  
"You're strong." She gasped, lifting his face up. "Fight it." She whispered, her voice strong and unfailing as she gazed soulfully into her eyes.  
  
"I'm so sorry, I always have to bring this onto you." He choked.  
  
Enris watched in curiosity at the doorframe, but chose to silently leave the scene. Legolas eventually fell into a better sleep with his sister by his side. She delicately touched his face before slipping away into the night.  
  
Chapter 20  
  
Bridges  
Un -built  
  
Myria awoke in her bed feeling warm and comforted with Enris' strong arms around her. She turned her face to look at his. Yet it was peaceful, she knew how confused and agitated that he must be. Myria lay her head gently back down onto the pillow and grasped Enris' hand.  
  
When Legolas woke he felt a severe pain in his head. He put a hand to his brow and sighed. The sky outside was a dull grey and pelting rain roared down. Legolas changed quickly. He wanted to avoid his family at breakfast and so decided to eat it privately. It wasn't so much that he was hungry, but he knew he hadn't eaten for days. He ran down the corridor and skidded around a corner. Amandil jumped back in alarm.  
  
"Manke naa autien? – Where are you going?" He asked suspiciously.  
  
"Mankoi lle irma sint? Why do you want to know?" Legolas replied brightly that was quite false and out of character.  
  
Amandil frowned.  
  
"Uuma ma' ten' rashwe, ta tuluva a' lle. – Don't look for trouble it will come to you." He muttered cautiously.  
  
Legolas stared at his brother cynically for a moment to which Amandil gave a laugh.  
  
"You really shouldn't doubt it you know." Amandil called over his shoulder as he walked away.  
  
Legolas sighed and ran on. Coincidentally, he managed to get into the parlours just before the cockerel crowed to rise. He skidded into the stuffy room panting. All the maids dressed in identical midnight blue uniforms looked up in surprise. Many looked shocked other giggled and twittered like a flock of pigeons scrabbling at bread. Steam billowed from the shining brass pots and pans lain on the stoves. Flour sat in rough bags of linen and dusted the hands of workers. A scrubbed oak table was station for many maids preparing food, and water dripped steadily from the sink onto the slate floor. A plump, elderly elf was walking over to him, her cheeks rosy and her mousy brown hair scraped back into a long braid, which reached her waist. Her rounded hands were resting on her hips and her mousy eyebrows were raised in surprise and suspicion.  
  
"Legolas" She sighed or rather announced, whilst shaking her head.  
  
This small comment made excited whispers bounce around the room.  
  
"Prince Legolas?" The maids gasped in some in doubt, though many were in wonder.  
  
"Hello Glensa." He laughed, stepping over the pans on the floor he had managed to knock over.  
  
"Hello, you!" She said curiously. "Or should I say stranger." She frowned playfully.  
  
Legolas opened his mouth to explain himself but closed it again, as he couldn't think of a retort. He suddenly became aware of the whole room staring at him incredulously.  
  
"Carry on!" Glensa snapped at the maids.  
  
The Prince moved out of the way as several elves began to clear away the mess he had made.  
  
"Sorry..." He muttered guiltily.  
  
One elf maiden looked up at him.  
  
"Don't worry, its perfectly fine with me." She giggled rebelliously.  
  
"Rinè!" Glensa snapped through her teeth.  
  
Legolas raised his eyebrows a small smile playing on his lips as the chief chef steered him into another room, (With much disappointment from the maids.)  
  
"What do you want then?" Glensa asked the Prince with a warm smile.  
  
Legolas returned it cheekily.  
  
"Well... I was wondering if you could get me something to eat?" He said to her still smiling.  
  
Glensa sighed. "Well you've come to remotely the right place, but it's really what you go to breakfast for my dear Prince."  
  
"I know, I'm sorry, its just I'm kind of avoiding it today. I have my reasons." Legolas replied to her.  
  
"Fine then!" Glensa mumbled, giving him a rather curious look but deciding not to question him, for which Legolas was very grateful for.  
  
"All right, sit down." She moaned falsely giving him a motherly smile.  
  
When Legolas had finished, he thanked Glensa profusely before walking out into the parlours again. The Prince grinned to himself as he heard the calls of goodbye from the maids. Before checking the coast was clear, he ran vigorously to his chamber. From the absence of the pummelling against the walls outside Legolas noticed that the rain had ceased. The aching in his head had stopped giving a sense of calm. The stubborn pain that tirelessly moved inside of him had not faded though, and although he was willing to smile he had no reason to. Sometime he felt that maybe his fate might change, but he forced into thinking that he would stand alone in time forever, while his longing slowly consumed him. Legolas sat cross – legged on his bed staring out of the window. The day of his birth drew near, a sad reminder of his immortality. It meant nothing to him, except that he had lasted one more year hanging on the brink of his own destruction holding just one last hope that was diminishing day by day. This birthday was of relevant importance to his kingdom; it was his becoming of age. Most elves would have been excited, in fact many were. It was almost like a national holiday to the people of Mirkwood under Thranduil's ruling. The Prince remembered Amandil's becoming of age – the respect he had gained in almost a day. Legolas nearly dreaded his celebration. It meant maybe another thing to him. Physical Freedom.  
  
His peaceful thoughts were suddenly disrupted when Amandil burst through the doors of his chamber.  
  
"Quel amrun! Sut naa lle sina re? – Good morning! How are you today?" The elder Prince said brightly.  
  
"Fine." Legolas replied flatly, breaking the elvish that his brother had started.  
  
Amandil sighed and flumped onto the end of his brother's bed. Legolas stared at his brother. Amandil was the first born in his family line. He was all but five hundred years older than himself and Myria had been born when he was one thousand and six hundred years old and was nearly twice her age.  
  
"Father wants to see us all. There's meeting in court... you have to be there apparently." Amandil muttered.  
  
Legolas rolled his eyes in grim awakening. Slowly stretching up from the bed he walked nervously with his brother to the court halls.  
  
Candles were lit, shining in their silver candelabras and sockets in the walls. Circles of warm light hung around their wicks creating little halos for the pearly white wax. The dull sky rolled by behind the rich hues of the stained glass locking out the world behind them. Elves sat on a circle of tall backed chairs enriched with wine coloured fabric and supported by polished sandalwood. A clap of lightning echoed around ceiling and rain delicately drummed its fingers against the glass. The courtiers knotted their hands in anticipation of the Royal arrival. The two Princes entered the court walking quickly to their seats. Thranduil's dark eyes followed them as they sat down comfortably. Amandil found himself next to his sister with Legolas on his left.  
  
"I take it he was reluctant." Myria whispered in her brother's ear.  
  
Amandil gently nodded his head avoiding making his conversation seem less obvious. Legolas' trembling hands slipped down to the sides of his chair and gripped them tightly as his father stood.  
  
"Welcome my children." He spoke giving a sideways glance at Legolas. "My servants and courtiers." He continued.  
  
Myria was on edge; she waited patiently and silently. Enris' fingers reached down to hers and squeezed them in comfort. She felt slightly better than before. Thranduil glided over to where his children were sitting. Legolas recoiled under the shadow of his father. He swallowed. Slowly the Prince drew his eyes towards his father's. It came as an unpleasant blow to Thranduil used to his own control but willing to sacrifice it all. Obviously, now he wasn't the only one that could play his game. He withdrew his son's piercing gaze and concentrating on speaking to his audience. Courtiers were anticipating the King and yet they grew thinly suspicious of what happening. A sharp cough from Amandil came as a helpful reminder of his position and jerked out of his trance.  
  
"Yes...Yes." He spoke shakily. "Well, you all know that the becoming of age for my son Prince Legolas is dawning on us."  
  
Thranduil indicated him with a wave of his hand.  
  
"Three thousand years..." Thranduil muttered again an almost hypnotic trance taking over him as guilt surged through his soul.  
  
A bristling wave of wonder showered the court and the whispers of an awkward silence replaced themselves again. Myria's brow furrowed once more and her fingers wound round Enris' hand more tightly. She had never seen her father this way before; it was always the other way around. The maiden chanced to observe her brother. To the first glance he would no longer look intimidated by his King, the centre of power to which his pain was fixed. His shoulders hung back and his head was high ready for confrontation. Such a vicious blaze of fire roared in his eyes, an impatient turbulence of burning toil that was ready, now, to fight back for its unsure worth. But following his arms the Princess noticed his knuckles were white due to the pressure inflicted upon his hands as he gripped the sandalwood more tightly.  
  
"Of course a celebration will take place. Duties will be as last time, if you remember and guests shall arrive accordingly." Thranduil said with a forced smile.  
  
Legolas wasn't the only one that was wondering why on earth, now, was he bothering.  
  
"Start as soon as possible." The King continued.  
  
The courtiers left with much to talk about, discussing their anticipation at another celebration in which to attend. Myria left with Enris, her eyes fixed back on her retreating father's back. Her head remained over her shoulder as she walked out of the hall. The Princess almost jumped as Legolas swept past her in a hurry. She could tell her brother was swelling at his sudden rush of control and wasn't going to let his father's mistakes be forgotten.  
  
Chapter 21  
  
Preparation  
  
Over the past days that had followed the meeting Myria was amazed to find that her father kept to his word. The Mirkwood banners hung down, lifeless to their lack of wind in the shadows of the Great Hall's beams and banisters up above. Decorations sprung to life although she never saw her brother come to look upon them or admire the hard work bled for him. On Legolas' birthday, Myria was awoken by a soft kiss. She flicked open her green eyes and stared into the face of her lover his radiance absorbing her entirely. Myria smiled weakly; drained from all her energy as forbidden love coursed through her veins.  
  
"The perfect way to start my day." She whispered, playfully prompting a grin from Enris.  
  
The elf ran his slender fingers through her hair, growing Myria's excitement in the bottom of her stomach. Enris was so different from the Frodo that she once knew. In his eyes it was like as if he had shed the skin of his former self, shedding the worries and cares that pressed down on his mind. Although this was sad for Myria, she loved Enris now much more than she had ever loved anything. As if all her thought were bent on him, she often wished she were older for then her love could be smiled on instead of an unholy frown of disgust. She wished to unite her soul with his with an act of forbidden passion but she knew she would be unveiled and disgraced. Myria would have to wait another one hundred years to announce her love for Enris, she was willing however to wait for him. Of course this was the subtle but important reason they had not slept together. It was mostly Myria's fear of what would happen if they were caught that held them back, and Enris chose to respect his partner's laws instead of abusing them.  
  
Enris sat next to Myria, perched on the end of her bed. Her fingers slipped under his palm and squeezed tightly throughout the morning.  
  
Legolas sat alone as always in his chamber looking out into the pallid distance unveiled by his window. A sudden blast of icy breeze caught the confused expression on his face. Shafts of golden sunlight exposed swirling clouds of dust and it set a mellow tone to the atmosphere of the room. He withdrew a long breath, his head painfully tight and his nails digging numbly into his palm. His breathing returned to its usual shallow gasps as he let the air out again.  
  
Suddenly his door opened. A small plump woman stood there her mousy hair scraped back into a long braid.  
  
"Glensa!" Legolas muttered croakily his throat dry with dread.  
  
"Hello dear." She smiled warmly.  
  
In her arms was an item wrapped in rumpled brown paper.  
  
Five minutes later Legolas was standing in front of a tall slender mirror. He was dressed in a new tunic. It was a pale sky blue like a canvas of a summer day behind fluffy clouds of white. Strips of golden velvet were stretched across his chest, quite symmetrically framed with gold braids. The collar was high, clasped at his neck and all the way down to his waistline. He wore butter yellow leggings under the starched blue silk ending at his knees. Despite protest he had managed to keep his long chestnut boots, made of soft leather. The Prince's face was paler than usual and his eyes blank and watery. The waterfall of golden shower that was his hair lay softly across his shoulders.  
  
"Now who looks handsome." Glensa beamed proudly tears in her eyes and brushing and smoothing invisible dust off of his chest.  
  
Legolas turned his head behind him expecting someone to be there falsely, and gave a grim nervous smile back at his motherly figure. She pulled him into a choking embrace, rubbing his back and muttering slightly.  
  
"Better be off." She smiled before leaving briskly.  
  
Myria and Enris entered the Great Mirkwood Hall. It was filled with a slightly unsettling pale golden light. Various servant boys hauled ropes, rising up the dignified banners and emblems of Mirkwood, the deep gold and green rich with age and years. Slender dancers flexed the power and grace of their bodies. Following the strips of silk that whipped up in constant formation the dancers seem to float with the fabric, twisting with it and letting it slowly fall. Elves flitted back and forth carrying platters of food.  
  
"Elear!" Myria called standing on the balls of her feet to get noticed over the commotion.  
  
A tall elf turned his head with deep, silky mahogany hair. It had been loosened and fell messily around his rather pink and flustered face.  
  
"Oh...Hello!" He said rather desperate and tired.  
  
A youth ran into his arms knocking the bundle of parchment he was holding out of hands and scattering all over the floor. Rolling his eyes he bent to retrieve it again. Myria tugged at Enris' hand for him to help.  
  
"Bis..." Elear gasped through a dozen sheets of paper clamped in his mouth, "Is a mightbare!"  
  
Myria giggled as she pulled the parchment from his jaw. As the papers were safely back into a bundle The Head servant surveyed his princess.  
  
"You look beautiful." He said awe-struck with a slight smile.  
  
Myria gave him a very modest stare with an element of satisfaction in it. He was right though. The princess was breathtaking. Her rippling locks of rich yellow ochre, sprinkled with golden dust glittering from the candlelight were twisted beautifully into a thin band of fine gold. Along it were tiny twinkling emeralds winking beneath the cords of shining metal. She wore a long gown also emerald in colour, which shimmered as she moved. Her skin looked pale and delicate in comparison to the contrast of the deep green. Enris also looked very handsome in a long silky robe of pale grey, complimenting his sapphire blue eyes and shining hazel hair.  
  
"Oi, watch it!" Elear shouted as he jerked out of his trance.  
  
Two young elves had nearly knocked down a display of stacked crystal glasses.  
  
"Legolas will be overwhelmed." Myria said eyeing the decoration and smiling at Elear kindly. "I'll see you later." She finished before he scooted off again.  
  
"We had better go and find Legolas" Myria said to Enris as they walked down the shadowed cool corridors of Mirkwood.  
  
Enris nodded responsively and his hand tightened around her waist. The pace of the couples' feet slowed somewhat and Myria leant into her partner, her head resting tenderly on his chest. The Princess savoured the peaceful love between them and walked on.  
  
Chapter 22  
  
Proposals  
  
In the hazy dusk captured under the many blossoming boughs of Mirkwood, the pale silver glimmers of mounted horses could be recognised. Carriages drew into the cleared ring of trees before two great looming doors of carved oak that were pushed open. Into the darkness of this cave like entering, tiny twinkling lights lead the way in beckoning the guests like seductive, winking eyes. Parties of elves drifted in slowly with elegant, proud expressions captivating their pale faces.  
  
The Princes of Mirkwood stood alongside their father, tall and strong, inclining their heads at guests who acknowledged them gracefully.  
  
Suddenly the rhythmic pulse of horses at speed echoed in the twilight. The first steed pulled into the clearing exclaiming the brigade with a shrill cry. The horse's onyx hued coat shone darker than the shadows, gleaming with a whispering mystery. A soldier sat upon his back wearing a conservative pearl white uniform, too crisp and clean almost. He bore a black and silver emblem and a crest – a long unsheathed blade with an intricate hilt emblazoned by a crown, shadowed by deep blue illumination. In medieval scripted letters the word Lüithien was spelled under the sword hilt.  
  
A Company of dazzling steeds framed the one messenger and many parted left to stable their horses. A frozen and persistent wind swept through the pallid courtyard and ran up Legolas' spine causing him to shiver.  
  
The leader of the new arrivals dismounted his snowy white steed. He walked as if on an invisible, transparent tightrope. His feet displayed the poise and elegance he possessed as they walked dance like to the hosts. It became almost immediately apparent to Legolas that this leader was the King of the group. The young Prince found it hard to recall ever hearing a realm named Lüithien and his brow furrowed as he tried to stir a distant memory or conversation voiced in his mind. The King's back was straight and rigid as he walked, like as an act of discipline he was meant to walk this way. A pale ghostly hand emerged from a deep blue satin robe. It was as if he wore the folds of the deep and calming night upon his shoulders, but without the beauty of the stars and the purity of their light. The moon gave her pale and grave alliance to his company and so gave him power. The fingers that were loosely outstretched met the ones of another pallid figure, a female. His soft chestnut hair framed his face giving it a little warmth but the undertones of it looked starved and mud coloured. The King's eyes were the deepest and most cavernous blue and a turbulent ocean roared inside of them.  
  
"Thranduil, my brother." He spoke with a silky tongue.  
  
The Silvan King beamed and the new arrival and embraced him like sibling.  
  
"I believe you have not met my daughter." He continued in a bored sort of drawl but with utmost sincerity. "This is Lady Almiè"  
  
The young woman stepped forward flowingly. Her feet curtseyed from under an astounding white dress. It flowed and ran off of her body, small, clear and beautiful crystals catching the light in their gaze and intricately sewn into swirl patterns of mist and snow on the silk. The collar, a low neckline, was composed of hundreds of pearls, diamonds and crystals held and strung onto thin wires of silver in an artistic and writhing frame. It looked as if winter thistles and brambles were dusted delicately with snow and frozen berries and stretched over her shoulders. Her ashen but milky skin almost formed as part of the dress, merging as one supreme form, beautiful and frail. Her raven black hair tumbled down her back, a cascade of night shining like a black sun, reflecting glints of electric blue. A few locks rested on her feminine shoulders blending into her cloak that concealed the edges of her figure. The Princess's snowy skin was almost colourless giving her a rather preserved look as if she was encased in a prison of ice. This made her eyes startlingly prominent and powerful, but she held a great beauty in them. It was as if the ocean had frozen over behind those dark, wide ebony pupils. A endless stretch of a deep resuming blue, so clean, crisp and cool, but hopeless for miles the bite of the chill ice, its jaws deathly. A heavy dark kohl pencil had outlined them and made the contrast so obvious. Almiè's lips were the most light and pale hue of frosted rose pink, but they shone transparently as if made of the finest, most fragile glass. A shrewd expression formatted her face, calculating the face she locked her eyes on. Legolas was also calculating her most scrupulously. He realised her beauty quite easily, but what kind of beauty she possessed he could only think of as dark. Dark, powerful and formulated beauty, like a dancer chasing the wind, she was captivating.  
  
Amandil automatically bent down to his knee and kissed her hand gently. Legolas followed the movement; his eye line catching her pallid hand as it retreated back to her side. His face became blank in realisation as his intuition made its blunt presence felt. The skin that was brought to his lips now bore a crimson mark. The Prince knew that she was in excruciating pain. The mark would be burning her like a red-hot poker being pressed to the back of her hand. Scream he thought, his eyes boring into her but her eyes didn't even water. In fact they were a little wider than usual. She covered the mark with her other hand as she had seen him watching her. Legolas bent a little and took Almiè's long slender fingers. He grasped them a little tighter than he would have normally, knowing he would cause her pain. As he brought his lips to her skin he held the kiss, almost feeling the fire burning beneath him.  
  
As he looked up at her, her jaw was firmly clenched; not in pain but anger. The Prince was slightly surprised he hadn't hurt her at all but he pondered on the question knowing it would be answered soon. The beauty that he couldn't give a name for was now christened. Almiè possessed a rare type of fairness given only to the darkness of a deceiving Drow.  
  
"Wonderful!" Legolas thought to himself, slightly amused. "My Father brought Drows as party guests."  
  
As he looked up he saw both of the Kings immersed in deep decisive conversation. Almiè drifted solemnly behind them and Amandil walked next to him. The Prince glanced at his younger brother.  
  
"Cheer up your allowed to look happy on your birthday you know." He smiled  
  
Legolas gave him a scrutinising look.  
  
"Where is Lüithien?" He asked softly.  
  
"Far East. It is set South from the Iron hills. I think it is just a stretch of woodland on the coast of the sea of Rhûn. It was founded by the King Lüithiel." Amandil replied inclining his head forward to his father's companion. "It was built just after the passing of the dark Lord, like Ithillien and means ""City of Stars"" in their own language. A little too much free will I believe. They have their own laws, language and rights. Very powerful; too powerful in fact. I think that's why father made friends with them really." He finished with a smile.  
  
"And do you think that they may be friends with Harlindon by any chance?" Legolas asked him.  
  
Amandil's brow furrowed intensely.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I know that Lady Almiè is a Drow. I wonder how many more there are." Legolas answered him softly.  
  
"Don't be absurd!" Amandil exclaimed violently. "Father wouldn't mix with that sort, he just granted a war with them."  
  
Legolas snorted softly in disagreement as they walked through two tall hazel doors.  
  
The light of the great hall was almost blinding. It was as if the sun had gathered her radiant shafts of fiery glow and cast them into a box of sandstone and marble. Thousands of white, waxy candles stood nobly in candelabras of entwining gold. The purity of their angelic halos didn't quite chase away the shadows that loomed above the fair heads of the guests. The solid beams of oak that held the structure of the palace were lost in the mysterious dark like a night without stars. Like a procession the royalty glided in and stood behind their King and host. Hundreds of elves were arranged in a glittering audience, their pale faces in anticipation. Thranduil raised his hand and spoke words of the sincerest welcome, loud and clear and ringing through the silence. Viols started to play, their slow deep tones bringing a calm and uplifting effect on the crowds. It seemed a satisfactory background noise to keep the people busy and chatter erupted slowly across the room. The King of Mirkwood crossed his visitors and advanced on his sons.  
  
"I was hoping we could form a united bond between our realm and the kingdom of Lüithien." He said bluntly and straight to the point.  
  
Over Thranduil's shoulder Legolas noticed the nightly eyes of Lüithiel watching them coldly.  
  
"Lady Almiè has become of age quite recently, her father – our brother Lüithiel is quite keen to have her kept safe in the hand of another." He continued, one eyebrow raised and looking between the two Princes.  
  
"You wish one of us to propose to her?" Amandil asked slightly confused.  
  
"Well obviously not both of you." Thranduil said a sarcastic tone to his voice. "I had thought though, seeing as Amandil is the heir to the throne maybe he should think his marriage through more carefully. She will be Queen after all, and Almiè is so young.  
  
Legolas' face contorted a soft spasm of realisation as Thranduil passed his eyes over the Princes' face.  
  
"I hope you don't mean." Legolas' words trailed off hopelessly as his face reflected the sentence that had been dealt out to him.  
  
"Yes, I do." Thranduil replied, this time with a colder and sterner tone. "I thought I was doing you a favour, she's certainly a beauty isn't she?"  
  
Amandil and the King turned and gazed over to where she was standing. Almiè's aura was very matter of fact and she stood very loosely, her posture very delicate but bored.  
  
Legolas didn't reply his mouth parched and dry. Thranduil's firm grip took hold of his shoulder.  
  
"You will go and propose and you will do something right for a change. What is the use of a prince if he can't provide nobility for his realm?" The King breathed menacingly into the Prince's ear.  
  
The conversation seemed to have come to a swift end and Legolas could only stand there nervous and numb. A sheen of sweat pasted over his brow making him look extremely ill and pallid. Myria swept over to him looking very dazzling and radiant. She smiled sweetly at him but with caution as she noticed the expression on his face. Inclining her golden head she gazed up at him.  
  
"Happy birthday." She grinned, "You look rather, well like you've been given a death sentence. What's wrong?"  
  
"Oh so it isn't a family conspiracy then?" He replied.  
  
Myria looked quite confused.  
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
"Sorry, I've just been asked, well told to get married." Legolas explained.  
  
The Princess began to laugh almost hysterically until an annoyed frown was glared back at her. "Who on earth to?" Myria asked more interested this time, a slight smile of mirth and interest capturing her expression.  
  
Legolas inclined his head towards Almiè's claimed territory. She was almost surrounded by a growing number of maidens who were all gushing to talk to her. Her bored expression still ruled her face and she occasionally nodded once or twice. Myria turned to him.  
  
"Well aren't you lucky" She said sarcastically.  
  
Her eyes were widened in surprise. Legolas let out a sigh with growing despair. He looked to his sister for an answer. She merely shook her head.  
  
"I can't do it!" He said. "I don't even know her, come on I don't exactly have experience do I?"  
  
Myria gave a little giggle a steered him towards the doors. The night had swallowed the little light that had exposed the gardens before. The air was hung with a heavy scent of jasmine, intoxicating the lungs with a sweet perfume. Placing a hand on his shoulder the Princess bade Legolas to sit down. The marble stung, cold as the couple sat making their skin feel weak.  
  
"Why is father telling you to do this?" Myria asked her words frosting the air around them.  
  
"A bond, he said. Between both realms."  
  
"They seem very powerful. Too powerful. Is wrong to say dark?"  
  
"No." Legolas replied firmly. "No it isn't. I'm glad I'm not the only person who has noticed that we're conversing with Drows."  
  
"You think that?" She whispered lowering her voice.  
  
The golden stretch of light that shafted across the dewy lawn was shadowed. A figure froze in the doorway illuminated by the warm candlelight and framed by the mass of vines extending over the granite mantle.  
  
"My Lord, can I speak with you?" The voice pronounced. Almiè's voice deceived her appearance. It was silky and warm, very polite and clear almost innocent in a sense.  
  
Myria rose with a last squeeze of the Prince's hand before she stood.  
  
"Of course." She smile sweetly at the visitor, although put off by her arrival.  
  
Nerves and apprehension flared up in Legolas' stomach as the last jewel of Myria's gown winked its goodbye behind the doorframe.  
  
Almiè gracefully sat beside him awkwardly her delicate fingers placed deliberately on the stone. The fiery light set free by the opening sharpened her profile. She certainly was beautiful, her hair cascading down her back, a veil of shining night at it's most splendid and without a flaw. Her appearance was flawless, however you looked at it. Her skin like pools of milky water screaming to be dappled in and to cling to the fingers of those whom cautioned to try. She turned her beautiful head towards him and stared. Those icy eyes looked straight through him, to his very soul and reached out to grasp and cage him in.  
  
"My father said there was something you wished to tell me." The silky tones spoke again almost whispering to his ears. Her lips played a mirthful tune of mock innocence.  
  
Legolas cleared his throat, his eyes resolute and defiant. "I haven't, I'm sorry to disappoint you. My Lady." He added.  
  
"Lets not play games." The Princess said a little more clearly. "I'm glad your father doesn't care for you much as it makes things a lot easier. My father has a brother, King Morierí. I believe you met before. You retrieved your sword from his chest if you remember. I came firstly to thank you, making a widow a Queen and nation in mourning is quite an achievement for someone so young. He was without an heir, Lady Niniel rules Harlindon now she has taste for your blood it seems. To put it blankly Harlindon is weak so we're governing that, more like ruling it. We want Mirkwood too and your daddy is in the way. So, we're nice to daddy and to create a, let's say bond he offers us you to play with. How sweet of him don't you think? I'm told I have to marry you so don't even bother with the romance. Not that I expected it, you're cleverer than I thought." She came to an end with a smile. "Not like daddy eh?  
  
"Sorry to disappoint you." The Prince retorted.  
  
The silky tones of her voice had disappeared and sometimes it was quite coarse, like she'd forgotten all courtesy associated with him.  
  
"So run along like a good little boy and arrange the marriage, it should be fun don't you think?" She continued a faint light flickering in her eyes. "What I mean is it would be the biggest lie told, and in public too, no one would necessarily have to know, apart from the people we've deceived of course."  
  
"Excuse me?" Legolas said suddenly. "You actually believe that I'd join in with your sordid little joke. Even if I was stupid enough to marry you, just to keep our fathers' happy, there is no way possible that I would be willing to let you walk away with my father's kingdom."  
  
Almiè looked at him rather doubtfully but pulled her face closer to his. Both pairs of eyes were clashed together in a severe dispute; neither was stronger, or weaker. Onlookers would have expected it to be a clinch and that a kiss was going to be the next action committed by the two.  
  
"Who said you had to be willing?" She said silkily and rather shrewdly.  
  
The shadow was cast across the shaft of golden light again indicating the presence of someone else. Almiè sprung up, but not obviously, like a cat intruded after it has located its pray. She swept off somewhere that Legolas chose not to follow.  
  
"How did it go?"  
  
The Prince jumped at the voice. Someone was leant against the doorframe a slight smile twitching one corner of his mouth. He was an elf also, with soft brown hair that fell about his shoulders elegantly. The gentile chestnut hues were slightly highlighted with an essence of silver. He had a cheeky look about him with a very relaxed expression. His eyes were a lot warmer than his hair; also chestnut brown but they almost melted as you looked into them. He was an unusual good looking but captivating all the same.  
  
"Darrahan?" Legolas muttered cautiously.  
  
"Oh you do remember me then?" he replied quite quickly and plonked himself into the spot which had been frozen by its past inhabitant.  
  
"By the gods why don't you go inside, it's bloody freezing out here." The newcomer said rubbing his hands together.  
  
"I prefer the solitude of it all." Legolas replied glumly.  
  
"Well you always were a bit of freak weren't you?" The retort came.  
  
"Well, some people keep on invading my space."  
  
Legolas stood up.  
  
"Yes, like the girl before." Darrahan joked, a little intrigued. "Who is she then?"  
  
"No one important." "She looked important to me, and knowing you, you think far too highly of your noble self to talk to anyone less than royalty." The elf spoke laughing.  
  
"Well, she was royalty if that's what you mean. Where did you come from anyway?" The Prince responded  
  
"Don't change the subject, but if its going the same way, I came in with the Drows." Darrahan finished with a satisfied smirk.  
  
Legolas raised his eyebrows. "Please say you're joking." He asked.  
  
"Oh, I was. Just making sure you were on the same line of thought as me. Or is it that Drow kingdoms acceptable in Mirkwood society now."  
  
"Course not." Legolas sighed. "I thought that I was the only one that noticed."  
  
"Nah." Darrahan mumbled between biting his nails and shuffling to sit cross- legged. "I mean I s'pose we've run into them enough times to know what they look like. The common folk haven't got a clue." He motioned jerking his head towards the door.  
  
The Prince turned to face him. "Yes, but the common folk know what cutlery to use at table. I still assume you don't have a clue."  
  
Darrahan scowled at him. "Did that really bother you?" He asked a little disheartened.  
  
"No. But my father did. It was great to use you to get back him." Legolas replied with a smile.  
  
"I knew didn't value my friendship, traitor." Darrahan played pointing a finger. "I will give him a little wave on my entrance inside though."  
  
The two elves walked back into the hall and automatically looked up. Thranduil was finishing an announcement.  
  
"...The wedding will commence in two weeks, of course courteers are invited. I will keep those involved notified."  
  
Legolas flushed crimson. He was quite dramatically aware of hundreds of faces turning to stare in congratulation. He flashed a steely glare to the scene by the throne of the hall. Almiè greeted him with an icy smile and a triumphant look. King Luithiel was gripping her hand a little too tightly. Two other Drows stood beside them with shadowed eyes and ebony hair. He hardly knew how his legs had carried him towards them, as he suddenly felt extremely weak. The room didn't seem stable, like he was back on a ship and the turbulence of the crashing water around him was steering him. Before an automatic decision could've told him to move Almiè was clenching his hand.  
  
"Smile and look normal." She spat in his ear.  
  
He blinked once or twice before feeling the hot trickle of liquid over his fingers. Her grip was tight and locked their fingers together. It was a while until Legolas felt the searing pain that was digging into his palm. Her nails were cutting grooves deep into his palm, reaching into his flesh and he felt dizzy. That was when she loosened the grip and began to caress the wounds. Outlining them delicately with her fingertips, painting his pain over his skin like some deluded ritual that he felt victim of. The Prince was frozen there for a while stuck in that moment where everything had felt so numb. Numb, and cold.  
  
"Legolas!" A firm voice broke him form the daze.  
  
"You are travelling to Lüithien tomorrow. I'd get some rest."  
  
Chapter 23  
Insanity  
  
The night seemed so much colder than before and prince was dealt an icy cold feeling at the pit of his stomach. It made him numb and the bandaged wounds on his hands burnt and scratched. The basking moonlight cast deep shadows in the room, washing it with pale blue light. The splitting pain that seared through Legolas' head was almost blinding and he came close to missing the soft knock on his door. The oak dislodged and a shaft of golden light clashed and contrasted with the darkness of the chamber. He looked over to see Almiè's figure blocking the frame. Her profile seemed so beautiful and flowing all of sudden and he was numbly captivated. Those sapphire eyes pierced though the air and every hue of her pallid complexion, whether delicately shadowed or not dazzled. Her image was crisp and clear like the spectrum of a freshly cut crystal. Almiè moved toward the bedside her dress moving with her as if the floor was too heavy to carry her footsteps. All of a sudden her face was close to his, her breath casting frosty clouds of air between them. Legolas merely blinked at her in a subtle confusion and helplessness. Almiè climbed slowly on to the bed and sat over his legs and picked up his right hand. The prince stared at her watching her cautiously. Fixing her eyes on his fingers she painfully unwound the cloth. The Drow caressed the cuts as she'd done before, running her fingers along and through his savouring the texture of his skin. She then lifted his hand to her lips and kissed the wounds softly. Almiè then traced each one with her fingernail. Pools of crimson blood began to seep down on the silks below them. Legolas gritted his teeth but didn't pull away. The Princess lifted it to her lips again and with the absence of her fingernail traced again, but with her tongue instead. She closed her eyes the raven black lashes contrasting so vividly with her pale skin. Suddenly in a quick motion she lunged, lodging her teeth deep into his skin and sucking hard, draining the blood tediously. A look of helpless desperation was fixed onto Legolas' face. He closed his eyes as well, his brow furrowing again but this time a strangling pain that coursed through his veins. After a while Almiè dropped the bloody hand and looked at him. Her lips and teeth were stained scarlet and she looked terrified. Both froze, breathing quickly in unison. Carefully she lay upon him dropping her body down tenderly on his. Almiè drew her face close to his.  
  
"Kiss me." She whispered.  
  
Legolas stared at her and saw the look of deep pain and loneliness that resided in that vast ocean that stretched into her soul. With a sudden moment of insanity they both embraced and their lips met. The kiss was soft and loving and the pair breathed painful and exhausting energy into each other. His tongue traced her lips and pushed them carefully apart passionately expressing his wanting for someone. When they drew apart, both were exasperated breathing deeply and shocked at how they'd let themselves go. The couple drifted asleep but when Legolas woke she was gone.  
  
Chapter 24  
Empty Vows  
  
They journey to Lüithien seemed all so surreal and silent. The noise seemed to have been taken from Legolas' ears and cast off into a place where chaos kept it safe. The torment in this mind was screaming with a vengeance though and he was glad that he had to worry about nothing but tomorrow.  
  
Lüithien glittered underneath the heavy bows, like it was craved out of a dazzling spike of ice and silver. The air was chill and the slow lazy breeze swept over the passengers, snagging their hair and giving them blank expressions. The brightness of the palace was blinding and each royal stallion looked dirty against the pale stone. No time was spared in the preparation for the ceremony. Legolas stood at the altar pale and with a tormented expression. Despite this he looked extremely handsome dressed in an embroidered silver tunic and his blonde hair braided, flawless in its ability to flow like streams of gold. Familiar faces of the courts sat around him and blurred their profiles barely recognisable. On his side he saw his father looking bored and unfazed by the ordeal. His siblings Amandil and Myria smiling placidly for him. He recognised Darrahan and his brother Herendil in the crowds looking surly and unsure. The captain of Mirkwood Araman sat with his lieutenant Lenwè. And various courtiers such as Lords Andreth and Ciryon and Elear who were of little relevance to Legolas' life. The Drows sat irritably on the other side glaring at the elves and grinning. Music began to drain Legolas' thoughts away as the ceremony started. Almiè glided in with her father, both in harmony of the music both walking as if on air, their heads high and rigid. Lüithiel sat when his daughter reached her groom. She stared into his eyes making his soul feel weak all over again. As the music had faded out the drawling minister's voice washed out Legolas' ears. He was fixated on her and had hardly noticed the vows for her had started. She smiled rather insanely for a moment.  
  
"I can't marry you darling." She whispered.  
  
She drew him into an embrace quickly, her arms locking him into her. Her lips were close to his ear and she started to speak.  
  
"Remember our deal? It's not your fault; it would have been easy to love you I promise. Maybe when this is over." Almiè muttered quickly.  
  
"When what's over?" Legolas retorted.  
  
"When I take your kingdom."  
  
She let him go and smiled before running off. A gasp from the crowd filled the room and tears started to swell in the groom's eyes. A figure's shadow fell over his shoulder suddenly. A sharp pain split across his crown and shadows fell across his thoughts leaving him unconscious of the world around him. 


End file.
